IE he &rt of Ufitfua 



) 



>// 



T II K 

AND OF 

ATTAINING HIGH HEALTH 

WITH 

A FEW HINTS ON SUPPERS. 

TO WHICH IS ADDED 

ANECDOTES OF DINING, CONNECTED WITH DISTIN- 
GUISHED INDIVIDUALS. 

BY A 

BON VIVANT 



It is well known that to constitute a perfect entree there must he 

observed a certain coherence and harmony anion,,' the dishes 

so t'.iat fish may not interfere with fowl, or stew take the 
place of roast. How should we be shocked to see a syl- 
labub responsive to sirloin— a rod's head yoked to a 
mince pie — or a Irican lean shouldering a plate 
of cherries? In like manner there must 
be a sort of adaptation or homogeneous- 
ness among the frui sts assembled— so 
that the old may not be confound- 
ed with the young— the high 
with the homelj — the 
rou.s,-h with the re- 
iined."— Leigh 
Hunt. 



/<£ 









NEW YOkK: 

ROBERT M. DE WITT, PUBLISHER, 

33 ROSE STREET. 






■tf 



& 

^ 



*y 



Entered according to Act of Congress, In the year 1RT4, 

By ROBERT M. DE WITT, 
In the offic: of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 



THE 



ART OF DINING. 



CHAPTER I. 



According to the Lexicons, the Greek 
for dinner is Ariston, and therefore, for the 
convenience of the terms, and without 
entering into any inquiry, critical or anti- 
quarian, I call the art of dining Aristology, 
and those who study it, Aristologists. The 
maxim, that practice makes perfect, does 
not apply to our daily habits ; for, so far 
as they are concerned, we are ordinarily 
content with the standard of mediocrity, or 
something rather below. Where study is 
not absolutely necessary, it is by most 



THE ART OF DINING. 



people altogether dispensed with ; but it 
is only by an union of study and practice, 
that we can attain any thing like perfec- 
tion. Anybody can dine, but very few 
know how to dine, so as to ensure the 
greatest quantity of health and enjoyment 
— : - deed many people contrive to destroy 
their health ; and as to enjoyment, I shud- 
der when I think how often I have been 
doomed to only a solemn mockery of it ; 
how often I have sat in durance stately, to 
go through the ceremony of dinner, the 
essence of which is to be without cere- 
mony, and how often in this land of liberty 
I have felt myself a slave ! 

There are three kinds of dinners — soli- 
tary dinners, every-day social dinners, and 
set dinners; all three involving the consi- 
deration of cheer, and the last two of 



THE ART 1' DIXING. 7 

society also. Solitary dinners, I think, 
ought to be avoided as much as possible, 
because solitude tends to produce thought, 
and thought tends to the suspension of the 
digestive powers. When however, dining 
alone is necessary, the mind should be 
disposed to cheerfulness by a previous 
interval of relaxation from whatever has 
seriously occupied the attention, and by 
directing it to some agreeable object. As 
contentment ought to be an accompaniment 
to every meal, punctuality is essential, and 
the diner and the dinner should be ready 
at the same time. A chief maxim in din- 
ing with comfort is, to have what you want 
when you want it. It is ruinous to have 
to wait for first one thing and then another, 
and to have the little additions brought, 
when what they belong to is half or entirely 



THE ART OF DINING. 



finished. To avoid this a little foresight 
is good, and, by way of instance, it is 
sound practical philosophy to have mustard 
upon the table before the arrival of toasted 
cheese. This very omission has caused 
as many small vexations in the world, as 
would by this time make a mountain of 
misery. Indeed, I recommend an habitual 
consideration of what adjuncts will be re- 
quired to the main matters ; and I think an 
attention to this, on the part of females, 
might often be preventive of sour looks and 
cross words, and their anti-conjugal con- 
sequences. There are not only the usual 
adjuncts, but to those who have any thing 
of a genius for dinners, little additions 
will sometimes suggest themselves, which 
give a sort of poetry to a repast, and please 
the palate to the promotion of health. As 



THE ART OF DINING. 



our senses were made for our enjoyment, 
and as the vast variety of good things in 
the world were designed for the same end, 
it seems a sort of impiety not to put them 
to their best uses, provided it does not 
cause us to neglect higher considerations. 
The different products of the different sea- 
sons, and of the different parts of the earth, 
afford endless proofs of bounty, which it 
is as unreasonable to reject, as it is to abuse. 
It has happened, that those who have made 
the gratification of the appetite a study, 
have generally done so to excess, and to 
the exclusion of nobler pursuits ; whilst, 
on the other hand, such study has been 
held to be incompatible with moral refine- 
ment and elevation. But there is a happv 
mean, and as upon the due regulation of 
the appetite assuredly depends our physical 



10 THE ART OF JJ I N I N 



well-being, and upon that, in a great mea- 
sure, our mental energies, it seems to me 
that the subject is worthy of attention, for 
reasons of more importance than is ordi- 
narily supposed. 



THE ART OF DINING. 11 



CHAPTER II. 

There is in the art of dining a matter 
of special importance, — I mean attendance 
— the real end of which is to do that for yon 
which you cannot so well do for yourself. 
Unfortunately this end is generally lost 
sight of, and the effect of attendant is to 
prevent you from doing that which you 
could do much better for yourself. The 
cause of this perversion is to be found 
in the practice and example of the rich 
and ostentatious, who constantly keep 
up a sort of war-establishment, or esta- 
blishment, adapted to extraordinary, in- 
stead of ordinary occasions, and the con- 
sequence is, that, like all potentates who 



12 THE ART OF DINING. 



follow the same policy, they never really 
taste the sweets of peace ; they are in a 
constant state of invasion by their own 
troops. It is a rule at dinners not to 
allow you to do any thing for yourself, and 
I have never been able to understand how 
even salt, except it be from some supersti- 
tion, has so long maintained its place on 
table. I am always in dread, that, like the 
rest of its fellows, it will be banished to 
the sideboard, to be had only on special 
application. I am rather a bold man at 
table, and set form very much at defiance, 
so that if a salad happens to be within my 
reach, I make no scruple to take it to me ; 
but the moment I am espied, it is nipped 
up from the most convenient into the most 
inconvenient position. That such absurd- 
ity should exist among rational beings, and 



THE ART OF DINING. 13 



in a civilized country, is extraordinary ! 
See a small party with a dish of fish at 
each end of the table, and four silver 
covers unmeaningly starving at the sides, 
while every thing pertaining to the fish 
comes, even with the best attendance, pro- 
vokingly lagging, one thing after another, 
»o that contentment is out of the question ; 
and all this is done under pretence that it 
is the most convenient plan. This is an 
utter fallacy. The only convenient plan 
is to have every thing actually upon the 
table that is wanted at the same time, and 
nothing else ; as for example, for a party 
of eight, turbot and salmon, with doubles 
of each of the adjuncts, lobster-sauce, 
cucumber, young potatoes, cayenne, and 
Chili vinegar, and let the guests assist one 
another, which, with such an arrangement, 



14 THE ART OF DINING. 

they could do with perfect ease. This is 
undisturbed and visible comfort. I am 
speaking now only with reference to small 
parties. As to large ones, they have long 
been to me scenes of despair in the way 
of convivial enjoyment. A system of 
simple attendance would induce a system 
of simple dinners, which are the only din- 
ners to be desired. The present system I 
consider strongly tainted with barbarism 
and vulgarity, and far removed from real 
and refined enjoyment. As tables are now 
arranged, one is never at peace from an 
arm continually taking off, or setting on a 
side dish, or reaching over to a wine-cooler 
in the centre. Then comes the more 
laborious changing of courses, with the 
leanings right and left, to admit a host of 
dishes, that are set only to be taken off 



THE ART OF DINING. 15 



again, after being declined in succession 
by each of the guests, to whom they are 
handed round. Yet this is fashion, and not 
to be departed from. With respect to 
wine, it is often offered when not wanted ; 
and when wanted, is perhaps not to be had 
till long waited for. It is dreary to observe 
two guests, glass in hand, waiting the 
butler's leisure to be able to take wine 
together, and then perchance being helped 
in despair to what they did not ask for ; 
and it is still more dreary to be one of the 
two yourself. How different, ^vhere you 
can put your hand upon a decanter at the 
moment you want it! I could enlarge 
upon and particularize these miseries at 
great length ; but they must be only too 
familiar to those who dine out, and those 
who do not may congratulate themselves 



16 THE ART OF DINING. 



on their escape. I have been speaking 
hitherto of attendance in its most perfect 
state : but then comes the greater incon- 
venience, and the monstrous absurdity of 
the same forms with inadequate establish- 
ments. Those who are overwhelmed with 
an establishment, are, as it were, obliged in 
self-defence to devise work for their attend- 
ants, while those who have no such rea- 
son ape an example which, under the most 
appropriate circumstances, is a state of re- 
straint and discomfort, but which, when 
followed merely for fashion's sake, be- 
comes absolutely intolerable. I remember 
once receiving a severe frown from a lady 
at the head of her table, next to whom I 
was sitting, because I offered to take some 
fish from her, to which she had helped me, 
instead of waiting till it could be handed 



THE ART OF DINING. 17 



to me by her one servant : and she was 
not deficient either in sense or good breed- 
ing ; but when people give in to such follies 
they know no mean. It is one of the 
evils of the present day, that every body 
strives after the same dull syle — so that 
where comfort might be expected, it is 
often least to be found. State, without the 
machinery of state, is of all states the 
worst. In conclusion of this part of my 
subject, I will observe, that I think the 
affluent would render themselves and their 
country an essential service if they were to 
fall into the simple, refined style of living, 
discarding every thing incompatible with 
real enjoyment; and I believe, that if the 
history of overgrown luxury were traced, 
it has always had its origin from the vulgar 
rich — the very last class worthy of imita- 



IS THE ART OF DINING. 



tion. Although I think a reduction of 
establishment would often conduce to the 
enjoyment of life, I am very far from 
wishing to see any class curtailed in their 
means of earning their bread ; but it ap- 
pears to me, that the rich might easily find 
more profitable and agreeable modes of 
employing the industrious, than in minis- 
tering to pomp and parade. 

I will now give you, dear reader, an 
account of a dinner I have ordered this 
very day at Lovegrove's, at Black wall, 
where if you never dined, so much the 
worse for you. This account will serve 
as an illustration of my doctrines on dinner- 
giving better than a long abstract dis- 
course. The party will consist of seven 
men besides myself, and every guest is 
asked for some reason — upon which good 



THE ART OF DINING. 1U 

fellowship mainly depends, for people, 
brought together unconnectedly, had, in 
my opinion, better be kept separate. 
Eight I hold to be the golden number, 
never to be exceeded without weakening 
the efficacy of concentration. The dinner 
is to consist of turtle, followed by no other 
fish but white bait, which is to be follow- 
ed by no other meat but groise, which are 
to be succeeded simply by apple fritters 
and jelly ; pastry on such occasions being 
quite out of place. With the turtle, of 
course there will be punch, with the white 
bait champagne, and with the grouse claret : 
the two former I have ordered to be par- 
ticularly well iced, and they will all be 
placed in succession upon the table, so that 
we can help ourselves as we please. I 
shall permit no other wines, unless, per- 



20 THE ART OF DINING. 



chance, a bottle or two of port, if particu- 
larly wanted, as I hold variety of wines a 
great mistake. With respect to the ad- 
juncts, I shall take care that there is cay- 
enne, with lemons cut in halves, not in 
quarters, within reach of every one, for 
the turtle, and that brown bread and but- 
ter in abundance is set upon the table for 
the white bait. It is no trouble to think 
of these little matters beforehand, but they 
make a vast difference in convivial con- 
tentment. The dinner will be followed 
by ices, and a good dessert, after which 
coffee and one glass of liqueur each, and 
no more ; so that the present may be en- 
joyed rationally without, inducing retro- 
spective regrets. If the master of a feasi 
wishes his party to succeed, he must know 
how to command, and not let his guests 



r HE ART OF D I X T X O. 2 1 



run riot, each according to his own wild 
fancy. Such, reader, is my idea of a din- 
ner, of which I hope you approve ; and I 
cannot help thinking that if parliament 
were to grant me 10,000/. a year, in trust, 
to entertain a series of worthy persons, it 
would promote trade and increase the 
revenue more than any hugger-mugger 
measure ever devised. 



THE ART OF DINING 



CHAPTER III. 

I shall begin this chapter with stating 
that the dinner at Blackwall, mentioned 
before, was served according to my di- 
rections, both as to the principal dishes 
and the adjuncts, with perfect exactness, 
and went off with corresponding success. 
The turtle and white bait were excellent : 
the grouse not quite of equal merit ; and 
the apple fritters so much relished, that 
they were entirely cleared, and the jelly 
left untouched. The only wines weif. 
champagne and claret, and they both gave 
great satistaction. As soon as the liqueurs 
were handed round once, I ordered them 
out of the room ; and the only heresy 



r H E ART OF DIM N G. Z.) 

committed was by one of the guests asking 
for a glass of bottled porter, which I had 
not the presence of mind instantly to for- 
bid. There was an opinion broached that 
some ilounders water-zoutcheed, between 
the turtle and white bait, would have been 
an improvement, — and perhaps they would. 
I dined again yesterday at Blackwall as a 
guest, and I observed that my theory as to 
adjuncts was carefully put in practice -o 
that I hope the public will be a gainer. 

In order to bring the dinner system to 
perfection according to my idea, it would 
be necessary to have a room contrived on 
the best possible plan for eight persons, as 
the greatest number. I almost think six 
even more desirable than eight ; but be- 
yond eight, as far as my experience goes, 
there is always a division into parties, or a 



24 THE ART OF DINING. 



partial languor, or sort of paralysis either 
of the extremities or centre, which has 
more or less effect upon the whole. For 
complete enjoyment a company ought to 
be one ; sympathizing and drawing toge- 
ther, listening and talking in due propor- 
tions — no monopolists, nor any ciphers. 
With the best arrangements much will 
depend upon the chief of the feast giving 
the tone, and keeping it up. Paulus 
iEmilius, who was the most successful 
general, and best entertainer of his time, 
seems to have understood this well ; for he 
said that it required the same sort of spirit 
to manage a banquet as a battle, with this 
difference, that the one should be made as 
pleasant to friends, and the other as formi- 
dable to enemies, as possible. I often 
think of this excellent saying at large 



THE ART OF DIN IN G. 2i> 



dinner parties, where the master and mis- 
tress preside as if they were the humblest 
of the guests, or as if they were over- 
whelmed with anxiety respecting their 
cumbrous and pleasure-destroying arrange- 
ments. They appear not to have the 
most distant idea of the duties of com- 
manders, and instead of bringing their 
troops regularly into action, they leave 
the whole army in reserve. They should 
at least now and then address each of their 
guests by name, and, if possible, say some- 
thing by which it may be guessed who 
and what each person is. I have witness- 
ed some ridiculous and almost incredible 
instances of these defects. I remember 
once at a large dinner party at a great 
house, the lion of the day not being called 
out once, and going away without the 



20 THE ART OF DINING. 

majority of the company suspecting who 
he was. On a similar occasion, as a very 
distinguished man left the drawing-room, 
a scarcely less distinguished lady inquired 
who that gentleman was, who had been 
talking so long to her, — though she had 
sat opposite to him at dinner. It appears 
to me that nothing can be better contrived 
to defeat its legitimate end, than a large 
dinner party in the London season — six- 
teen, for instance. The names of the 
guests are generally so announced that it 
is difficult to hear them, and in the earlier 
part of the year, the assembling takes 
place in such obscurity, that it is impos- 
sible to see. Then there is often a tedious 
and stupifying interval of waiting, caused 
perhaps by some affected fashionable, 
some important politician, or some gor- 



T H E ART O F DIM N G . 27 



geously-decked matron, or it may be by 
some culinary accident. At. last comes the 
formal business of descending into the 
dining-room, where the blaze of light pro- 
duces by degrees sundry recognitions ; but 
many a slight acquaintance is prevented 
from being renewed by the chilling mode 
of assembling. In the long days the light 
is more favourable, but the waiting is 
generally more tedious, and half the guests 
are perhaps leaving the park, when they 
ought to be sitting down to dinner. At 
table, intercourse is prevented as much as 
possible by a huge centre-piece of plate 
and flowers, which cuts off about one half 
the company from the other, and some 
very awkward mistakes have taken place 
in consequence, from guests having made 
personal obsei vations upon those who were 



28 THE ART OF DIM N 



actually opposite to them. It seems strange 
that people should be invited, to be hid- 
den from one another. Besides the centre- 
piece, there are usually massive branches, 
to assist in interrupting communication ; 
and perhaps you are placed between two 
persons with whom you are not acquainted, 
and have no community of interest to in- 
duce you to become so, for in the present 
overgrown state of society, a new acquaint- 
ance, except for some particular reason, is 
an encumbrance to be avoided. When the 
company is arranged, then comes the per- 
petual motion of the attendants, the per- 
petual declining of what you do not want, 
and the perpetual waiting for what you do, 
or a silent resignation to your fate. To 
desire a potato, and to see the dish handed 
to your next neighbour, and taking its 



THE ART OF DINING. 29 



course in a direction from you, round an 
immense table, with occasional retrograde 
movements, and digressions, is one of the 
unsatisfactory occurrences which frequent- 
ly take place ; but perhaps the most dis- 
tressing incident in a grand dinner is, to 
be asked to take champagne, and, after 
much delay, to see the butler extract the 
bottle from a cooler, and hold it nearly 
parallel to the horizon, in order to calculate 
how much he is to put into the first glass 
to leave any for the second. To relieve 
him and yourself from the chilling diffi- 
culty, the only alternative is to change 
your mind, and prefer sherry, which, 
under the circumstances, has rather an 
awkward effect. These and an infinity 
of minor evils are constantly experienced 
amid the greatest displays, and they have 



30 THE ART OF DIN INC, 



from sad experience made me come to the 
conclusion, that a combination of state and 
calculation is the horror of horrors. Some 
good bread and cheese, and a jug of ale, 
comfortably set before me, and heartily 
given, are heaven on earth in comparison. 
1 must not omit to mention, among other 
obstacles to sociability, the present exces- 
sive breadth of fashionable tables for the 
purpose of holding, first, the cumbrous 
ornaments and lights before spoken of; 
secondly, in some cases, the dessert, at the 
same time with the other side dishes ; and 
lastly, each person's cover, with its ap- 
purtenances ; so that to speak across the 
table, and through the intervening objects, 
is so inconvenient, as to be nearly imprac- 
ticable. To crown all, is the ignorance 
of what you have to eat, and the impossi- 



THE ART OF DINING. 31 



bility of duly regulating your appetite. To 
be sure, in many particulars you may form 
a tolerably accurate guess, as tbat, at one 
season, there will be partridges in the third 
course, and at another, pigeons, in dull 
routine. No wonder that such a system 
produces many a dreary pause, in spite of 
every effort to the contrary, and that one 
is obliged, in self-defence, to crumble 
bread, sip wine, look at the paintings, if 
there are any, or if there are not, blazon 
the arms on the plates, or, lastly, retreat 
into oneself in despair, as I have often and 
often done. When dinner is over, there is 
no peace till each dish in the dessert has 
made its circuit, after which the wine 
moves languidly round two or three times, 
and then settles for the rest of the evening, 
and coffee and small talk finish the heartless 



32 THE ART OF DINING. 



affair. I do not mean to say that such dinner 
parties as I have been describing have not 
frequently many redeeming circumstances. 
Good breeding, wit, talent, information, 
and every species of agreeable quality are 
to be met with there ; but I think these 
would appear to much greater advantage, 
and much oftener, under a more simple 
and unrestrained system. After curiosity 
has been satisfied, and experience ripened, 
I imagine most people retire from the 
majority of formal dinners rather wearied 
than repaid, and that a feeling of real en- 
joyment is the exception, and not the rule. 
In the long run, there is no compensation 
for ease ; and ease is not to be found in 
state and superabundance, but in having 
what you want when you want it, and 
with no temptation to excess. Thelegiti- 



T II F. ART O .. . ; N IN O. 3& 



nKite objects of dinner are to refresh the 
body, to please the palate, and to raise the 
social humour to the highest point ; but 
these objects, so far from being studied, in 
general are not even thought of, and dis- 
play and an adherence to fashion are their 
meagre substitutes. Hence it is, that gen- 
tlemen ordinarily understand what pertains 
to dinner-giving so much better than ladies, 
and that bachelors' feasts are so popular. 
Gentlemen keep more in view the real 
ends, whereas ladies think principally 
of display and ornament, of form and 
ceremony — not all, for some have excellent 
notions of taste and comfort ; and the cul- 
tivation of them would seem to be the 
peculiar province of the sex, as one of 
the chief features in household manage- 
ment. There is one female failing in re- 
3 



34 THE ART OF 1) I M N G. 



spect to dinners, which I cannot help here 
noticing, and that is a very inconvenient 
love of garnish and flowers, either natural 
or cut m turnips and carrots, and stuck on 
dishes, so as greatly to impede carving 
and helping. This is the true barbarian 
principle of ornament, and is in no way 
distinguishable from the " untutored In- 
dian' s" fondness for feathers and shells. 
In both cases the ornament is an encum- 
brance, and has no relation to the matter 
on which it is placed. But there is a still 
worse practice, and that is pouring sauce 
over certain dishes to prevent them from 
looking too plain, as parsley and butter, or 
white sauce over boiled chickens. I cannot 
distinguish this taste from that of the Hot- 
tentot besmearing himself with grease, or 
the Indian with red paint, who, T suppose. 



THE ART OF D I N I N ti 35 

nave both the same reason for their prac- 
tice. To my mind, good meat well cook- 
ed, the plainer it looks the better it looks, 
and it certainly is better with the accesso- 
ries kept separate till .ised, unless they 
form a part of the dish. 



J AE ART OF DINING. 



CHAPTER IV. 

In my last chapter, I promised tj give 
my ideas of what dinners ought to be. I 
shall begin with repeating a preceding 
passage. 

" In order to bring the dinner system to 
perfection according to my idea, it would 
be necessary to have a room contrived 0,1 
the best possible plan fo. eiffht persons, as 
the greatest number. I almost think six- 
even more desirable than eight ; but beyond 
ei^ht, as far as my experience goes, 
there is always a division into parties, 
or a partial languor, or a sort of para 
vsis either of the extremities or centre 



T HE ART OF DINING. 37 



which has more or less effect upon the 
whole. For complete enjoyment, a com- 
pany ought to be one ; sympathizing and 
drawing together, listening and talking in 
due proportions — no monopolists, nor any 
ciphers." — I am now supposing the whole 
object to be the perfection of dinner par- 
ties, without reference to number of family 
or acquaintance, and without reference to 
display or any other consideration : but I 
suppose every other consideration post- 
poned to convivial enjoyment alone. Spa- 
cious and lofty rooms destroy, or at least 
weaken, that feeling of concentration 
which is essential to perfect fellowship. 
There is a sort of evaporation ol one- 
self, or flying off into the void, which im- 
pairs that force of attention necessary to 
give and receive complete enjoyment. A 



38 THE ART OF DINING. 

party, to use a familiar phrase, should be, 
as it were, boxed up, comfortably packed, 
with room enough, but not to spare, or, as 
the French revolutionists used to have it, 
should be "one and indivisible." Those 
who have dined in the very small rooms, 
called cabinets particidiers, at the restau- 
rateurs at Paris, must have remarked the 
beneficial influence of compactness in pro- 
moting hilarity, and banishing abstraction 
and restraint ; but those rooms have no 
other desirable qualification but their small- 
ness, which is often extreme, and they 
have not been originally contrived for the 
purpose for which they are used, yet they 
have a capability of producing more of a 
festive disposition than is to be found 
amid space and display. Dining-rooms 
in London are in general, I think, very 



THK ART OF DIM N G. 30 



tasteless and uninspiring in themselves, 
and, when set out, they are decorated after 
the barbarian style, rather for display, than 
with reference to their use. 

From the architect to the table decora- 
tor, there seems to be a total absence of 
genius for the real objects to be aimed at. 
Justness of proportion, harmony of co- 
louring, and disposition of light, are the 
most desirable qualities in any room, but 
especially in a dining-room, without any 
individual ornaments or objects to distract 
the attention ; so that the moment one 
enters, there may be a feeling of fitness, 
which is productive of undisturbed satis- 
faction, and disposes the mind to the best 
state for enjoyment. Attention should be 
directed to produce an effect from the 
whole, and not by the parts. For this 



40 THE ART OF DINING. 



reason light should be thrown in the least 
observable manner, and not ostentatiously 
from ornamental objects. There should 
be the pleasing effect of good light, with 
the least perception whence it comes. 
There is no art in lighting a table by 
cumbrous branches ; but there is in throw- 
ing a light upon it, like some of Rem- 
brandt's paintings, and the effect is ac- 
cordingly. The first is vulgar ; the latter 
refined. In the same manner light from 
windows should be admitted only with 
reference to the table ; and during dinner 
the view should be shut out to prevent dis- 
traction. With respect to the proportions 
of a room, they should be studied with 
reference to the table, which, as I have 
said, should in my opinion be of the size 
to accommodate not more than eight per- 



THE ART OF DINING 41 

sons. In point of width, I would not 
have more space than necessary for the 
convenient circulation of the least possi- 
hle number of attendants. In point of 
length there should be room for a side- 
board at one end, and a sufficient space 
from the fireplace at the other ; so that 
the length of the room would be somewhat 
greater than the width. In respect to 
height, it should be proportioned to the 
length and width, and therefore the height 
would not be considerable. A high room 
is certainly not favourable to conversation, 
because it is contrary to the principal of 
concemration ; and the prejudice in favour 
of height arises from its effect considered 
with respect to large parties, and to over- 
loaded tables. I would have the door in 
the side, at the end near the sideboard, 



42 THE ART OF DINING. 

and the windows on the side opposite. As 
to colouring, the same rule ought to be ob- 
served as in every thing else, that is, to 
study general effect. To suit all seasons 
best, I think the walls ought to be of 
rather a sober colour, with drapery of a 
warm appearance for cold weather, and the 
contrary for hot. Perhaps it may be 
thought by many, that all these particulars 
are very immaterial, and that the consider- 
ation of them is very trifling ; but my 
opinion is, that in all our actions, whether 
with reference to business or pleasure, it is 
a main point, in the first place, to produce a 
suitable disposition ; and as dining is an 
occurrence of every day of our lives, or 
nearly so, and as our health and spirits 
depend in a great measure upon our vivid 
enjoyment of this our chief meal, it seems 



THE ART OF DINING. 13 

to me a more worthy object of study than 
those unreal occupations about which so 
many busy themselves in vain. But I am 
forgetting an important matter in the din- 
ing-room ; I mean the due regulation of 
the temperature, upon which comfort so 
much depends, and from want of attention 
to which, there is annually so much suffer- 
ing both from heat and cold. In hot wea- 
ther the difficulty is the greatest, and is 
best to be overcome by attention to ventila- 
tion and blinds. In winter there is little 
difficulty, with due care and no stinginess, 
which latter is apt to appear both in having 
the fire only lighted just before dinner, and 
in not keeping it up properly to the end of 
the party ; and I do here protest against 
the practice I have often witnessed, of let- 
tiug*the fire actually go out in cold weather 



4 1 THE ART OF DINING. 

before the guests. There is nothing more 
cheerless or of more inhospitable appear- 
ance. On the other hand, a bright blazing 
fire has a very inspiring effect on entering 
the dining-room, and is an object worthy 
of special attention to those who wish 
their parties to succeed. Moreover, in 
such a room as I have described, the open- 
ing after dinner on a dreary day to admit a 
cheerful fire would be a very inspiring mo- 
ment with an agreeable party brought into 
perfect unison by a well-imagined, well- 
executed repast — a scene to kindle equally 
attachment to one's friends, and love of 
one's country. The cultivation of the 
fireside is one of the greatest import, pub- 
lic and private. 

Having said, I think, every thing I have- 
to say as to the arrangement of the dining- 



THE ART OF DINING. 4.1 

room till I come to the table, I will here 
dedicate a word or two to its necessary ap- 
pendage, the kitchen, which I would have 
literally an appendage, and not, as at pre- 
sent, a distant and unconnected establish- 
ment. As I said before, I am now sup- 
posing the whole object to be the perfec- 
tion of dinner parties, without reference to 
any other consideration, and therefore, I 
put aside custom, fashion, and prejudice, 
as enemies to the true theory and practice, 
and I boldly advance my own opinions. I 
must beg the reader to bear in mind, that 
I am speaking with reference to small par- 
ties, and that I am an advocate for dinners 
which, as nearly as can be calculated, are 
just enough, and no more. I speak not 
of the bustle of preparation for twelve, 
sixteen or twenty people, with about four 



4G THE ART OF DINING. 



times as much as they can possibly con- 
sume, and with a combination of over- 
powering heat and disagreeable scents. 
I have in view a quiet, little kitchen with- 
out noise, or annoying heat, or odour, save 
some simple savory one, provocative of 
the appetite, and incapable of offending 
the most fastidious. Such an establish- 
ment would I have immediately adjoining 
my dining-room, and communicating with 
it by an entrance close to the sideboard, 
closed during the process of dinner by a 
curtain only, so that the dishes could be 
brought in without noise, or current of air, 
or constant opening or shutting of a door. 
As Matthew Bramble, i.i Humphrey 
Clinker, talks in his delights of the coun- 
try, of eating trout struggling from the 
stream, T would have mv dishes served 



THE ART OF DINING. 17 

glowing, or steaming, from the kitchen- 
stoves — a luxury not to be compensated, 
and a quality which gives a relish, other- 
wise unattainable, to the simplest, as well 
as the most highly finished dishes. Let 
those who have sense and taste conceive a 
compact dinner, quietly served in simple 
succession according to such an arrange- 
ment, with every thing at hand, and in the 
best possible state, and compare it with a 
three-course repast, imported under cover, 
in tedious processsion, from under ground. 



48 THE ART OF DININ O. 



CHAPTER V. 

To those who are the slaves of custom 
or fashion, or who have never thought for 
themselves, the doctrines on the art of din- 
ing laid down in the last chapter must 
appear startling, absurd, or impossible to 
be carried into practice, except in a very 
limited number of cases. The simple 
style I propose is as different from the 
ornamented and cumbrous one now in 
vogue, as the present cropped, unpowder- 
ed, trousered mode of dress is from that 
of a gentleman's in the middle of the last 
century, when bags, swords, buckles, and 
gold lace were universally in use ; and I 
might be thought as much out of the 



THE ART OF DINING. 49 



way in my notions by some, as any one 
would have been in the year 1750, who 
should have advocated the dress of 1835. 
But simplicity and convenience have tri- 
umphed in our dress, and I have no doubt 
they will equally do so in time in our 
dinners. With respect to the practicabi- 
lity of my system, I lay down rules which 
I think the sound ones, with a view to 
their being approached as nearly as cir- 
cumstances will permit. For instance, I 
am of opinion a party, to be the most satis- 
factory, should not exceed eight persons, 
and therefore I would keep as near that 
number as possible. I think it is a very 
material point to have a dinner served up 
quite hot, and therefore I would have a 
kitchen as close to the dining-room as con- 
veniently it could be. I differ from those 
4 



50 THE/ )F DINING. 

who like large parties, and who think the 
kitchen ought to be remote, and I frame 
my rules accordingly, and would bring my 
practice as near my rules as circumstances 
would allow. I should prefer two small 
parties simply regaled, to one large one 
with an overloaded repast, and I would 
make all my arrangements with reference 
to the style I think best, and keep to it as 
strictly as I could. As it appears to me 
that the more intent we are upon what we 
are doing, the greater is our enjoyment, I 
have dwelt in the article in my last chapter 
upon the means of preventing distraction 
at the dinner-table — not that I mean all that 
I have said always to be adhered to, but I 
give it by way of guide and specimen. I 
endeavour to exhibit the true philosophy 
of dining, leaving the practice to be modi- 



THE ART OF DINING 51 



fied according to tastes and circumstances, 
and as I am decidedly of opinion that the 
true philosophy of dining would have 
great influence upon our well being, bodily 
and mental, and upon the good ordering of 
our social habits, I think it well worth 
serious attention. The above observations 
apply as well to what I am going to say as 
to what I have said ; the application of my 
rules must depend upon circumstances. 

I concluded the article on dining in my 
last chapter with promising to treat, in the 
present, of the table, the dinner, and the 
mode of conducting it. A great deal of the 
pleasure of the party depends upon the 
size of the table being proportioned to the 
number of those sitting at it. The other 
day, when dining alone with a friend of 
mine, I could not help being constantly 



52 THE ART OF DINING. 

sensible of the unsocial influence of too 
large a table. The circular form seems to 
me to be the most desirable, and as tables 
are now made with tops of different sizes, 
to put on as occasion requires, those who 
think it worth while can adapt their table 
to their party with what precision they 
please. According to my system of serv- 
ing the dishes in succession, the only thing 
to be considered in the size of the table, 
is convenient room for sitting, so as 
neither to be crowded nor to be too far 
apart. For any number not exceeding 
four, I think a square or oblong table quite 
as comfortable as a round one. With 
respect to setting out a table, every thing 
should be brilliantly clean, and nothing 
should be placed upon it except what is 
wanted ; and every thing wanted, which 



THE ART OF DINING. 53 



can ( onveniently be upon the table, should 
be there, so as to dispense as much as pos- 
sible with attendance, and thereby avoid the 
trouble of asking for things, and the frequent 
occurrence, even with the best arrange- 
ments, of having to wait. I rather think 
the best mode of lighting a table has not 
yet been discovered. I think it desirable not 
to have the lights upon it, nor indeed any 
thing which can interrupt the freest com- 
munication between the guests, upon which 
sociability greatly depends. The art of 
throwing the most agreeable light upon a 
table is well worth cultivating. Instead 
of those inconvenient and useless centre- 
pieces which I have already denounced, I 
would have a basket of beautiful bread, 
white and brown, in the middle of the 
table, with a silver fork on each side, so 



54 THE ART OF DINING. 



that the guests could help themselves, which 
would be oerfectly easy with a pariy not 
exceeding eignt, which limit I understand 
in all I say. I would have the wine piaced 
upon the table in such manner as to oe as 
much as possible within the reach ot each 
person, and I hold stands for the decanters 
to be impediments, and coolers also, ex- 
cept, perhaps, in very hot weather. Ii the 
wine is served at a proper temperature, it 
will in general remain so, as long as ought 
to be necessary ; but it is often set upon the 
table before it is wanted, for show. As I 
am an enemy to a variety of wines, I think 
one wine glass only most convenient at 
dinner, nor do I think in general that 
water glasses for the wine glasses are of 
much use. I like to simplify as much as 
possible ; and instead of the supernumera- 



THE ART OF DINING. 55 



ries we now see, I would have one or more 
sels of cruets upon the table, according to 
the size of the party, and containing those 
things which are continually wanted, and 
which it is desirable to have at hand. 
When they are to be asked for, they are 
not used half so much as when they are 
within reach. Whatever dish is placed 
upon the table, it ought to be preceded by 
all its minor adjuncts, and accompanied by 
the proper vegetables quite hot, so that it 
may be enjoyed entirely, and at once. 
Plow very seldom this is fully experienced, 
for. want of previous attention, or from the 
custom of sacrificing comfort to state and 
form ! I suppose I hardly need add that 
I am an advocate for the use of dumb 
waiters ; and the smaller the party is, the 
more they are desirable, because attendants 



56 THE ART OF DINING. 

are a restraint upon conversation and upon 
one's ease in general, in proportion to the 
limited number at table. I will conclude 
this part of my subject with recommend- 
ing, in the arrangements of the dining- 
room, and the setting out of the table, 
Madame de Sta'el's description of Corinne's 
drawing-room, which she says, was " sim- 
ply furnished, and with every thing con- 
trived to make conversation easy and the 
circle compact," as nearly^ as possible the 
reverse of what is aimed at in English 
dinners of the present day. 

With respect to the dinner itself, there 
are two kinds of dinners — one simple, con- 
sisting of few dishes, the other embracing 
a variety. Both kinds are good in their 
way, and both deserving attention ; but 
for constancy, 1 greatly prefer the simple 



THE ART OF DINING. 57 

style. As it is not my purpose to give a 
series of bills of fare, after the manner of 
the authors of books on cookery, I shall 
perhaps find it difficult to make my notions 
on dinners sufficiently comprehended. I 
mean only to lay down a few general rides, 
and leave the application to the genius of 
those who read them. In the first place, 
it is neceesary not to be afraid of not hav- 
ing enough, and so to go into the other 
extreme, and have a great deal too much, 
as is almost invariably the practice. It is 
also necessary not to be afraid of the 
table looking bare, and so to crowd it with 
dishes not wanted, or before they are 
wanted, whereby they become cold arid 
sodden. " Enough is as good as a feast," 
is a sound maxim as well in providing as 
in eating. The advantages of having only 



58 THE ART OF DINING. 



enough are these ; it saves expense, trouble, 
and attendance; it removes temptation and 
induces contentment, and it affords the best 
chance of having 1 a well-dressed dinner, 
by concentrating the attention of the cook. 
The having too much, and setting dishes 
on the table merely for appearance, are 
practices arising out of prejudices, which, 
if once broken through, would be looked 
upon, and deservedly, as the height of vul- 
garity. The excessive system is a great 
preventive of hospitality, by adding to the 
expense and trouble of entertaining, while 
it has no one advantage. It is only pur- 
sued by the majority of people for fear of 
being unlike the rest of the world. In 
proportion to the smallness of dinner ought 
to be its excellence, both as to quality of 
materials and the cooking;. In order to en- 



THE ART OF DINING. 59 



sure the best quality of materials, it is ne- 
cessary to have some intercourse with the 
tradesmen who provide them, that they 
may feel an interest in pointing out and 
furnishing whatever happens to be most 
desirable ; and judicious criticisms on the 
cooking, whether in blaming or commend- 
ing, are essential to keeping up a proper 
degree of zeal. There is a mean in these 
things between too much meddling and 
total negligence, and I think it is to be 
lamented on many accounts, that there is 
so much of the latter on the part of the 
higher classes toward those with whom 
they deal. Both parties would find their 
account in a mutual good understanding. 
To order dinner well is a matter of inven- 
tion and combination. It involves novelty, 
simplicity, and taste ; 



60 T UK ART O F DINING, 



generality of dinners, there is no character 
but that of dull routine, according to the 
season. The same things are seen every- 
where at the same periods ; and as the 
rules for providing limit the range very 
much, there are a great many good things 
which never make their appearance at all, 
and ,a great many others, which, being 
served in a fixed order, are seldom half 
enjoyed ; as, for instance, game in the 
third course. This reminds me of a dinner 
I ordered last Christmas-day for two persons 
besides myself, and which we enjoyed 
very much. It consisted of crimped cod, 
woodcocks, and plum-pudding, just as much 
of each as we wanted, and accompanied 
by champagne. Now this dinner was both 
very agreeable and very wholesome from 
its moderation ; but the ordinary course 



THE ART OF DINING. 01 

would have been to have preceded the 
woodcocks by some substantial dish, 
thereby taking away from their relish, and 
at the same time overloading the appetite. 
Delicacies are scarcely ever brought till 
they are quite superfluous, which is unsa- 
tisfactory if they are not eaten, and perni- 
cious if they are. When the materials 
and the cooking are both of the best, and 
the dinner is served according to the most 
approved rules of comfort, the plainest, 
cheapest food has attractions which are 
seldom to be found in the most laboured 
attempts. Herrings and hashed mutton, 
to those who like them, are capable of 
affording as much enjoyment, when skil- 
fully dressed, as rare and costly dishes. I 
think it would be a great improvement to 
introduce, as a mode of enjoying easy 



0:1 THE ART OF DINING. 



society, small parties to plain savoury 
dinners, without state or ceremony. They 
need not supersede more expensive repasts, 
but might be adopted as a variety and 
a relief. At present such a thing is 
scarcely heard of as asking half a dozen 
people to a dinner, unless it be an affair of 
trouble and expense. If people can dine 
alone in a plain manner, they could do so 
in society much more agreeably. 



THE ART OF DINING. 03 



CHAPTER VI. 

Suppose a party of eight assembled in a 
room and at a table arranged according to 
what I have said in the preceding chap- 
ter, to a dinner, either plain or costly, and, 
in the latter case, either of few dishes 
or of considerable variety ; I would have 
every dish served in succession, with its 
proper accompaniments, and between each 
dish there should be a short interval, to be 
filled up with conversation and wine, so as 
to prolong the repast as much as possible, 
without inducing excess, and to give time 
to the digestive powers. By means of 
such intervals, time would be given to the 
cook, and to the attendants, so that no hing 



f'A THE ART OF DININO. 



would have to wait for the guests, nor 
would the guests have to wait for any- 
thing, due preparation being made for each 
dish before its arrival, without bustle or 
omissions. In dinners of few dishes they 
ought to be of rather a substantial kind ; 
but, when composed of variety, the dishes 
should be of a lighter nature, and in the 
French style. It must be confessed that a 
French dinner, when well dressed, is ex- 
tremely attractive, and, from the lightness 
felt after a great variety of dishes, it cannot 
be unwholesome ; though I do not think, 
from my own experience and observation, 
that the French mode of cookery is so 
favourable to physical power as the En- 
glish. If I might have my choice, I should 
adopt the simple English style for my 
regular dint, diversifying it, occasionally 



THE ART OF DINING. 05 



with the more complicated French style. 
Although I like, as a rule, to abstain from 
much variety at the same meal, I think it 
both wholesome and agreeable to vary the 
food on different days, both as to the mate- 
rials and the mode of dressing them. The 
palate is better pleased, and the digestion 
more active, and the food, I believe, assi- 
milates in a greater degree with the system. 
The productions of the different seasons 
and of different climates point out to us un- 
erringly that it is proper to vary our food ; 
and one good general rule I take to be, to 
select those things which are most in sea- 
son, and to abandon them as soon as they 
begin to deteriorate in quality. Most peo- 
ple mistake the doctrine of variety in their 
mode of living. They have great variety 
at the same meals, and great sameness at 



66 THE ART OF DINING. 



different meals. Let me here mention, 
what I forgot before, that after the dinner 
on Christmas-day, we drank mulled claret 
— an excellent thing, and very suitable to 
the season. These agreeable varieties are 
never met with, or even thought of, in the 
formal routine of society, though they con- 
tribute much, when appropriately devised, 
to the enjoyment of a party, and they admit 
scope for invention. I think, in general, 
there is far too little attention paid to vary- 
ing the mode of dining according to the 
temperature of the seasons. Summer din- 
ners are for the most part as heavy and as 
hot as those in winter, and the consequence 
is, they are frequently very oppressive, 
both in themselves and from their effect on 
the room. In hot weather they ought to 
bo light, and of a cooling nature, and uccom- 



THE A R T C F D 1 X I K G. 07 



panied with agreeable beverages well iced, 
rather than with pure wine, especially of 
the stronger kinds. I cannot think there 
is any danger from such diet to those who 
use it moderately. The danger, I appre- 
hend, lies in excess from the pleasure felt 
in allaying thirst and heat. The season in 
which nature produces fruit and vegetables 
in the greatest perfection and abundance, is 
surely that in which they ought to be most 
used. During the summer that cholera 
was the most prevalent, I sometimes dined 
upon pickled salmon, salad, and cider, and 
nothing else ; and I always found they 
agreed with me perfectly, besides being 
very agreeable. Probably, if I had taken 
them in addition to more substantial food, 
so as to overload my appetite, it might have 
been otherwise, and yet that course would 



08 THE ART OF DINING. 



have been adopted by many people by way 
of precaution. In hot weather the chief 
thing to be aimed at is. to produce a light 
and cool feeling, both by the management 
of the room and the nature of the repast. 
In winter, warmth and substantial diet 
afford the most satisfaction. In damp 
weather, when the digestion is the weak- 
est, the diet ought to be most moderate in 
quantity, but rather of a warm and stimu- 
lating nature ; and in bracing weather, I 
think plain, substantial food the most appro- 
priate. By studying to suit the repast to 
the temperature, the greatest satisfaction 
may be given at the cheapest rate. Iced 
water is often more coveted than the 
richest wine. 

One of the greatest luxuries, to my mind, 
in dining, is to be able to command plenty 



THE ART OF DINING. GO 



of good vegetables, well served up. But 
this is a luxury vainly hoped for at set 
parties. The vegetables are made to figure 
in a very secondary way, except, indeed, 
while they are considered as great delica- 
cies, which is generally before they are at 
their best, and then, like other delicacies, 
they are introduced after the appetite has 
been satisfied ; and the manner of handing 
vegetables round is most unsatisfactory 
and uncertain. Excellent potatoes, smok- 
ing hot, and accompanied by melted butter 
of the first quality, would alone stamp 
merit on any dinner ; but they are as rare 
on state occasions, so served, as if they 
were of the cost of pearls. Every body 
of genuine taste is delighted with a display 
of vegetables of a superior order ; and if 
great attention was bestowed upon that part 



70 THE ART OF DINING. 



of dinners instead of upon the many other 
dishes, dinners would be at once more 
wholesome and more satisfactory to the 
palate, and often less expensive. I have 
observed, that whenever the vegetables are 
distinguished for their excellence, the din- 
ner is always particularly enjoyed ; and if 
they were served, as I have already recom- 
mended, with each dish, as they are most 
appropriate and fresh from the dressing, it 
would be a great improvement on the pre- 
sent stvle. With eome meats something 
of the kind is practised, as pease with 
ducks, and beans with bacon, and such 
combinations are generally favourites ; but 
the system might be much extended, and 
with great advantage, by due attention. 
With respect to variety of vegetables, I 
think the same rule applies as to other 



THE ART OF DINING. 



dishes. I would not have many sorts on 
the same occasion, but would study ap- 
propriateness and particular excellence. 
There is something very refreshing in the 
mere look of fine vegetables, and the 
entrance of a well-dressed dish of meat, 
properly accompanied by them and all their 
adjuncts, would excite a disposition to 
enjoyment much greater than can the un- 
meaning and unconnected courses now 
placed before our eyes. This is a matter 
of study and combination, and a field for 
genius. It is a reasonable object of atten- 
tion, inasmuch as it is conducive to real 
enjoyment, and has nothing to do with 
mere display. In French cookery, vegeta- 
bles meet with attention much more propor- 
tionate to their importance than in ours, 



THE ART OF DINING. 



and appropriateness in serving them is 
much more studied. 

I think I have now said all I had to say 
respecting dinners. My object has been 
to point out what I consider to be the true 
philosophy, and to put people upon the 
right scent of what ought to be done, 
rather than to particularize it. Those 
who wish to succeed, can only do so to 
much extent, by first getting into the right 
course, and then thinking for themselves, 
with such aids as they can derive from 
observation, and the best treatises on cook- 
ery. The chief point to be aimed at, is 
to acquire a habit of thinking only of the 
real object of dining, and to discard all 
wish for state and display in a matter 
which concerns our daily enjoyment of 
health and pleasure. I consider my ob- 



THE ART OF DINING. 73 

serrations on the art of dining as part of 
what I had to say on attainment of high 
health, from the necessary dependence of 
our health upon the judicious and satisfac- 
tory manner in which we make our prin- 
cipal meal. I think the art of dining, pro- 
perly understood, is especially worthy the 
attention of females of all classes, accord- 
ing to their respective means. It comes 
peculiarly within the province of domestic 
economy, and is indeed one of its most 
important features. But females ought to 
be especially on their guard, in this essen- 
tial affair, not to divert their views from 
realities to show, to which they have a 
strong propensity. There are many things 
in which they can indulge their taste for 
ornament, provided it is not carried too 
far, with advantage to themselves and to 



THE ART OF DINING. 



the satisfaction of others ; but in the arti- 
cle of dinners it is misplaced, because 
destructive of something of much more 
importance ; and the realities, when in full 
force, have quite sufficient attractions with- 
out any attempt to heighten them by 
" foreign aid." In conformity with my 
dislike to show or display in every thing 
connected with dinners, I prefer a service 
of plain white ware — the French manu- 
facture, I believe, or an imitation of it — to 
plate or ornamented china. There is a 
simplicity in white ware, and an appearance 
of cleanliness and purity, which are to me 
particularly pleasing, besides which it is, 
I always think, indicative of a proper feel- 
ing, and a due attention in the right direc- 
tion. As to desserts, I am no great friend 
to them. I enjoy fruit much more at ai y 



THE ART OF DINING. 7f) 



other time of the day, and at any other 
meal ; besides which, I think they are 
unwholesome from being- unnecessary. 
At any rate, I would have them in great 
moderation, and confined to a few kinds 
of ripe fruit. Preserved fruits are in my 
opinion cloying after dinner, and I believe 
injurious to the digestion of a substantial 
meal, and confectionary I think still worse. 
Desserts are made instruments of show as 
much or more than dinners, and though, un- 
like dinners, they cannot well be spoiled by 
it, yet it makes them a perpetual source of 
temptation to excess. It is most unphilo- 
sophical to set things before people, and to 
tell them they need not. take them unless 
they please. Contentment and safety 
mainly depend upon having nothing before 
us except what we ought to take. 



7 ) THE iST OF D IT: INC. 

I purpose in my next chapter coming to 
a conclusion on the subject of the art of 
dining. My remaining topics are, wine, 
the means of limiting dinners to small par- 
ties, and the effect of such limit upon the 
mode of carrying on society in the most 
convenient and agreeable manner. It 
seems to me, that great improvements are 
practicable, at least with those who prefer 
real enjoyment to mock, and who like ease 
and liberty better than state and restraint. 



THE ART OF DINING. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Before I proceed to the topics I pro- 
posed to discuss in this chapter, I wish 
just to add one observation to what I have 
said in a former one, on the introduction 
of delicacies at dinner. I have there ob- 
served that " delicacies are scarcely ever 
brought till they are quite superfluous, 
which is unsatisfactory if they are not 
eaten, and pernicious if they are." Fre- 
quently when I have expressed my senti- 
ments on this subject in conversation, the 
objection made has been, that it would be 
difficult, or too expensive, if delicacies 
were introduced in the early part of din- 
ner to provide enough. The answer is, 



73 THE ART OF DINING. 

that it is not necessary to have a sufficient 
supply for each guest to make a dinner 
upon, but enough to afford each a reasona- 
ble portion before the appetite is palled. 
For instance, at a party of six persons, if 
the dinner consisted of soup, fish, a joint, 
and three woodcocks, I maintain it would 
be much better to serve the woodcocks 
before the joint, both on the score of en- 
joyment and of health — of enjoyment, 
because a delicacy, when the appetite is 
nearly satisfied, loses a great part of its 
relish, and is reduced to the level of plainer 
food while the appetite is keen — of health, 
because it is much more easy to regulate 
the appetite when the least tempting dishes 
are brought last. By serving delicacies 
first, people would dine both more satis- 
fictorily and more moderately, and eater- 



THE ART OF DINING. 79 

tainments would be less costly and less 
troublesome. I have often seen a course 
of game taken away, nearly or quite un- 
touched, which would almost have dined 
the party, and much more agreeably than 
on the preceding dishes. The truth is, 
and a melancholy one too, that set dinners 
are managed more with a view to the 
pageant than the repast, and almost in 
every particular, besides that of delicacies, 
there is a sacrifice of enjoyment to an 
unmeaning and vulgar-minded style. Let 
us hope that some daring and refined 
spirits will emancipate us from such bar- 
barous thraldom, and that we may see a 
rivalry of inventive genius instead of the 
present one of cumbrous pomp. Simpli- 
city, ease, and sound sense are making 
progress in many things relating to our 



80 THE ART OF DIN IN 



way of living ; and surely they will not 
be excluded from one of the most import- 
ant of our temporal concerns. 

A matter suggests itself to me here, 
which it is expedient not to pass over ; I 
mean the practice of persons in different 
stations of life, or enjoying different de- 
grees of affluence, in their intercourse with 
each other, all adopting, as far as they are 
able, the same style of entertainment. The 
formal, stately style is certainly not that 
of the greatest enjoyment, but it is tolera- 
ble only when it is adequately kept up, 
and with a disciplined establishment. 
Those who maintain large establishments, 
feel a necessity to find them employment 
to prevent greater inconveniences, but for 
those who have only a moderate household 
1o go out of their way for the purpose of 



THE ART OF DINING. 81 



badly imitating what is rather to be avoided 
altogether, is the height of folly. I do not 
know any thing more unsatisfactory than a 
state occasion, where the usual mode of 
living is free from all state. It excites my 
pity, and wearies me ; and I cannot be at 
my ease while I am conscious that the en- 
tertainers are giving themselves trouble, and 
suffering anxiety to a greater degree than 
it is probable they can be recompensed, 
and are perhaps incurring expense which 
is inconvenient, and for which some com- 
fort is to be sacrificed. In whatever style 
people live, provided it, is good in its kind, 
they will always have attractions to offer 
by means of a little extra exertion well 
directed within their own bounds, but when 
they pass those bounds, they forego the 

advantages of variety and ease. It is 
6 



P2 THE ART CF I'l K 1^0. 



almost always practicable to provide some- 
thing out of the common way, or some- 
thing common better than common ; and 
people in different situations are the most 
likely to be able to produce an agreeable 
variety. The rule generally followed is to 
think what the guests are accustomed to, 
whereas it should be reversed, and what 
they are not accustomed to should rather 
be set before them, especially where the 
situation of the entertainer, or his place of 
residence, affords any thing peculiar. By 
adopting such a course, persons of mode- 
rate income may entertain their superiors 
in wealth without inconvenience to them- 
selves, and very much to the satisfaction 
of their guests — much better than by 
laboured imitations of their own style 
Contrast should be aimed at, and men used 



THE ART OF DINING. 83 



to state and luxury are most likely to be 
pleased with comfort and simplicity. We 
all laugh at the idea of a Frenchman in his 
own country, thinking it necessary to treat 
an Englishman with roast beef; but it is 
the same principle to think it necessary to 
entertain as we have been entertained, un- 
der different circumstances. There are 
people in remote parts of the country, who, 
having the best trout at hand, and for no- 
thing, send for turbot at a great expense to 
entertain their London guests; and in- 
stances of the like want of judgment are 
innumerable. In general it is best to give 
strangers the best of the place ; they are 
then the most sure to be pleased. In 
entertaining those who are in a different 
class from ourselves, it is expedient to pro- 
vide for them what they are not used to, 



84 THE ART OF DINING. 

and that which we are most in the way of 
procuring of superior quality. Many peo- 
ple, from their connexion with foreign 
countries, or with different parts of their 
own, are enabled to command with ease to 
themselves what are interesting rarities to 
others, and one sure way to entertain with 
effect is, as I have before recommended, to 
cultivate a good understanding with those 
with whom we deal for the supply of the 
table. By way of illustration of what I 
have said, on the subject of choice plain 
dinners, I will give an account of one I 
once gave in the chambers of a friend of 
mine in the Temple, to a party of six, all 
of whom were accustomed to good living, 
and one of whom was bred at one of the 
most celebrated tables in London. The 
dinner consisted of the following dishes, 



THE ART OF DINING. 



85 



served in succession, and with their re- 
spective adjuncts carefully attended to, 
First, spring soup from Birch's on Corn- 
hill, which, to those who have never 
tasted it, I particularly recommend in the 
season, as being quite delicious ; then a 
moderate sized turbot, bought in the city, 
beautifully boiled, with first-rate lobster- 
sauce, cucumber, and new potatoes ; after 
that, ribs of beef from Leadenhall market, 
roasted to a turn, and smoking from the 
spit, with French beans and salad ; then a 
very fine dressed crab ; and lastly, some 
jelly. The owner of the chambers was 
connected with the city, and he undertook 
specially to order the different articles, 
which it would have been impossible to 
exceed in quality ; and though the fish and 
beef were dressed by a Temple laundress, 



86 THE ART OF DINING. 

they could not have been better served, I 
suppose principally from the kitchen being 
close at hand, and her attention not being- 
distracted ; and here I must remark that 
the proximity of the kitchen was not the 
least annoyance to us in any way, or indeed 
perceptible, except in the excellence of the 
serving up. The beef deservedly met 
with the highest praise, and certainly I 
never saw even venison more enjoyed. 
The crab was considered particularly well 
introduced, and was eaten with peculiar 
zest, and the simplicity of the jelly met 
with approval. The dessert, I think, con- 
sisted only of oranges and biscuits, followed 
by occasional introductions of anchovy 
toast. The wines were champagne, port, 
and claret. I have had much experience 
in the dinner way, both at large and at 



THE ART OF DINING. ^7 

small parties, but I never saw such a vivid- 
ness of conviviality, either at or after din- 
ner, which I attribute principally to the 
real object of a dinner being the only one 
studied ; state, ornament, and superfluity 
being utterly excluded. I hold this up as 
an example of the plain, easy style of en- 
tertaining. There was nothing which any 
body may not have with the most .mode- 
rate establishment and the smallest house, 
perhaps not always in exactly the same 
perfection as to quality of materials, but 
still sufficiently good, with a little trouble 
and judgment. 

It is the mode of dinner that I wish to 
recommend, and not any particular dishes 
or wines. Common soup made at home, 
fish of little cost, any joint, the cheapest 
vegetables, some happy and inexpensive 



88 THE ART OF DINING. 



introduction, like the crab, and a pudding, 
with sherry and port, provided every thing 
is good in quality, and the dishes are 
well dressed, and served hot and in succes- 
sion, with their adjuncts, will ensure a 
quantity of enjoyment, which no one need 
be afraid to oner, and so it will be with 
any combination in the same style ; but 
then it is absolutely necessary not to over- 
do the thing on the one hand, and on the 
other, to direct the attention entirely in the 
right course ; to think nothing of display 
or fashion, but only of realities, and to 
dispose every thing for comfort and ease. 
Such dinners admit of an endless variety 
of combination, and by more or less addi- 
tional expense, often very trifling, may be 
made greatly sought after. There is one 
precaution which I would recommend to 



r II E ART OF Dl N IN G. 89 



those who step out of the common way in 
entertaining, and that is to make some 
mention of what they mean to do at the 
time they give their invitation, otherwise a 
sort of disappointment may be sometimes 
felt, which is destructive of that disposi- 
tion to be pleased, which guests ought to 
feel. For instance, speaking from my 
own experience, I greatly prefer small 
parties to large ones, and simple dinners to 
overloaded ones ; but it has happened to 
me, that if, from the style of the invitation, 
I have made up my mind to a state parly, 
I have been disappointed at finding a small 
one, though I should have preferred it in 
the first instance ; and so it might be to 
invite any one to a simple dinner, however 
excellent, without giving some notice. 
There is often a little art in giving an invi- 



'JO THE ART OF DINING. 



tation, not only so as to prevent disap- 
pointment, but to prepare the invited for 
any particular circumstance, in order that 
they may come with the proper disposi- 
tion, created by anticipation. I recollect 
at the dinner I have above described, I 
stated, in my invitations, verbal and writ- 
ten, what I meant to attempt, and the 
names of the party. As the success of it 
so strongly illustrates my positions in 
favour of compactness of dining-room, of 
proximity of kitchen, of smallness of 
party, of absence of state and show, of un- 
divided attention to excellence of dishes, 
and to mode of serving them in single 
succession, I am tempted to add the names 
here by \va)' of authentication, and to show 
that my guests were competent judges, not 
to be le.l away from want of experience. 



THE ART OF DINING. 91 



The party consisted of Lord Abinger, then 
Sir James Scarlett, Sir John Johnstone, 
the present member for Scarborough, Mr. 
Young, private secretary to Lord Mel- 
bourne, Mr. R. Bell, of the firm of Bell 
Brothers, who occupied the chambers and 
acted as caterer, and lastly, my excellent 
friend, the late Honourable George Lamb, 
whose good humoured convivial qualities 
were held in high estimation by all who 
knew him, and who on this occasion out- 
shone himself. I had seen him on many 
and many a festive and joyous occasion, 
both amid the revelries of the northern 
circuit and in private society, but I never 
saw him, or any other man, in such height 
of glee. Such a scene could not take place 
at a table set out, however well, in the 
customary style. There could not be ll.e 



92 THE ART OF DINING. 



same ease and inspiration, the same satis- 
faction, and concentration of mind on what 
is to be done, the same sympathetic bring- 
ing together of a party over one thing at 
once. What is there in state and show to 
compensate for this enjoyment? They 
are the resources by which dulness seeks 
to distinguish itself, and it is pity that 
those who are capable of better things, 
should submit to such trammels. In pro- 
portion as the set-out is brilliant, I have 
observed the company is generally dull, and 
every ornament seems to me an impediment 
in the way of good fellowship. I must add 
a word or two to what I have said respect- 
ing the mode of giving invitations, upon 
which, I think, more depends than at first 
sight appears. If a formal invitation on a 
large card requesting the honour. &c., at 



THE ART OF DINING. 03 



three weeks' notice, were to be received, 
and the party should prove to be a small, 
familiar one to a simple dinner, however 
good, some disappointment would almost 
unavoidably be felt, partly because the 
mind would have been made up to some- 
thing different, and partly on account of the 
more laboured preparation. It is in gene- 
ral, I think, advisable to give some idea to 
the invited what it is they are to expect, 
if there is to be any thing out of the com- 
mon way, either as to company or repast ; 
at any rate, it is expedient not to mislead, 
as some people are very much in the habit 
of doing, and then receiving their company 
with an apology, which throws a damp 
over the affair in the very outset. Now, 
instead of a formal invitation, let us sup- 
pose one to such a dinner as the under- 



PI THE ART OF DINING. 

mentioned, couched in these words : " Can 
you dine with me to-morrow 1 — I shall 
have herrings, hashed mutton, and cran- 
berry tart. My fishmonger sends me word 
herrings are just in perfection, and I have 
some delicious mutton, in hashing which I 
shall direct my cook to exercise all her art. 
I intend the party not to exceed six, and, 
observe, we shall sit down to table at half- 
past seven. I am asking as follows." 
Now I should greatly prefer such an invi- 
tation to a formal one in general terms, 
and I suppose most other people would do 
the same. It would show an intentness 
and right understanding on the matter in 
hand, from which the happiest results 
might be expected, and the guests would 
go filled with the most favourable predis- 
positions, which is starting at an advan- 



1 UK ART OF DINING. 1)5 

tai^e ; for at parties in general, it requires 
some time before they can be raised to any 
thing 1 like the proper tone of fellowship. 
Such a style puts dinner-giving within 
almost every body's reach, and would 
induce a constant flow of easy hospitality, 
instead of a system of formal parties, " few 
and far between." The same mode is 
equally desirable in invitations to simple 
dinners of the most costly, or rarest dishes, 
and in some respects more so, as the anti- 
cipations would be more vivid. I have 
heard it frequently objected to the simple 
style that some of the guests, when there 
is little or no choice, may not be able to 
make a dinner; but this objection is en- 
tirely obviated by particularizing, as above, 
what the dinner is to consist of, and those 
whom it does not please, can then decline 



Ofi THE ART OF DININP. 

the invitation. A simple dinner, well 
served, to a party of a similarity of taste, 
cannot fail to have peculiar success ; it 
makes perfect the union. These snug 
little parties, I must confess, have very 
much the air of being confined to bachelor 
ones, but I think them equally applicable 
to a mixture of the sexes. Ladies are very 
apt to suppose that men enjoy themselves 
the most when they are not present. They 
are in a great measure right, but for a 
wrong reason. It is not that men prefer 
their own to a mixture of female society, 
but that females delight in a number of 
observances, and in forms, upon some of 
which I have already touched, and upon a 
certain display and undeviating order, which 
conspire to destroy that enjoyment, which 
they seem to think they are debarred from. 



THE ART OF DINING. 97 

The fault is their own. If they will study 
my doctrines, and fall a little into the her- 
ring-and-hashed-mutton system, they will 
soon find a difference in their favour. In 
their management of dinners, let them 
think only of what contributes to real en- 
joyment. Such a system will afford them 
plenty of scope for the display of their 
taste in realities, instead of in vanities, 
which have no charms for men in the arti- 
cle of conviviality. If they wish to witness 
any thing like the enjoyment I have 
desciibed to have taken place at my din- 
ner in the Temple, they must adopt some- 
thing of the same course to ensure it. 
Side-dishes, centre-pieces filled with 
flowers, and such encumbrances and impe- 
diments, are fatal to it. They may make 
their election, but they cannot have both. 
7 



93 THE ART OF DINING. 



I rather believe they think their system 
necessary to keep up a proper degree of 
respect to themselves, and that without it 
men would become too careless and unci- 
vilized ; but this I apprehend to be a mis- 
take. There may be well-regulated ease 
without running into disorder and brutality, 
and whatever facilitates the social inter- 
course between the sexes, will of course 
increase refinement on the part of the men. 
I think it would be a vast improvement in 
society if the practice of familiar dining 
were introduced — parties not exceeding 
eight, without the trouble of dressing be- 
yond being neat and clean, with simple 
repasts, costly or otherwise, according to 
the means or inclinations of the givers, and 
calculated to please the palate, and to pro- 
mote sociabilitv and health. I will ex- 



plain myself farther on this head ii. my 
next chapter, till which I must defer the 
consideration of mv remaining topics on 
the art of dining. 



1 THE ART OF DINING. 



CHAPTER VITT 

As the season for fires is approaching, 
or rather, from the wet weather, is arrived, 
I must make an observation or two upon 
that important head. A cheerful fire is 
our household sun, which I, for one, like to 
have ever shining upon me, especially in the 
coming months of November and Decem- 
ber, when the contrast between that and 
the external fogs and mud is most striking 
and agreeable. A good fire is the next 
best substitute for a summer sun, and, as our 
summer sun is none of the brightest, we 
are wise to make the most of its successor. 
An Englishman's fireside has, time out of 
mind, been proverbial ; and it shows 



THE ART OF DIXISO. 101 



something of a degenerate spirit not to 
keep up its glories. There is an unfortu- 
nate race, who labour under a constant 
pyrophobia, or dread of fire, and who can- 
not bear the sight of it, or even the feel, 
except from a distance, or through a 
screen. When we have to do with such, 
we must compromise as well as we can 
between comfort and consideration ; but 
I am speaking to the real enjoy ers of the 
goods of life, without any morbid infirmity 
about them. A bright, lively fire I reckon 
a most excellent dinner companion, and in 
proper fire weather I would always have 
it, if I may so say, one of the party. For 
instance, two or three at each side of the 
table, one at the top, and the fire at the bot- 
tom, with the lights on the mantelpiece ; 
but then, to have this disposition in perfec- 



102 THE ART OF DINING. 



tion, the room should be something after 
the plan I have recommended in my fourth 
chapter. Under such circumstances, T 
think if melancholy herself were one of 
the guests, she could not but forget her 
state. A fire is an auxiliary at dinner, 
which diffuses its genial influence, with- 
out causing distraction. As Shakspeare 
says of beauty, " it is the sun that maketh 
all things shine ;" and as Dryden sings 
after Horace, 

" With well-heap'd logs dissolve the cold, 
And feed the genial hearth with fires ; 
Produce the wine that makes us bold, 
And sprightly wit and love inspires." 

It might be supposed, from the way in 
which the fire is ordinarily treated during 
dinner, that it was a disagreeable object, 
or a common enemy. One or more per- 



THE ART OF DINING. 103 



sons are made to turn their backs upon it, 
and in that position screens are obliged to 
be added to prevent fainting. This is a 
perverse mode of proceeding, arising partly 
from the ill-adaptation of dining-rooms to 
their use, partly from the custom of crowd- 
ing tables, and partly from the risk of 
oppressiveness, where there are large 
numbers and overloaded dinners ; so that 
in this, as in most instances, one abuse 
engenders another, and the expediency of 
adhering to a rational system is clearly 
manifested. We are the creatures of 
habit, and too seldom think of changing 
according to circumstances. It was but the 
other day I dined where the top of the 
table was unoccupied; but though the 
weather was cold and wet, the master of 
the house maintained his position at the 



104 THE ART OF DINING. 



bottom with his back to the fire, protected 
by a screen. If I conld have wheeled 
him round, " the winter of my discontent" 
would have been made " glorious sum- 
mer," and I should have dined with com- 
plete satisfaction. 

The conservancy of fires ought princi- 
pally to fall within the superintendence of 
the female part of a family, because they 
are least seldom out of the way, and it is 
a subject of very great importance in the 
maintenance of domestic comfort, espe- 
cially where the males, eith er from plea- 
sure or business, are exposed to the vicis- 
situdes of weather. Let any one call to 
mind the difference between two houses 
where good and bad fires are kept. To 
the labouring classes a good fire at meals 
is the greatest source of health and enjoy- 



THE ART OF DINING. 105 



men ; and at public houses a cheerful 
blaze seen through the windows, is a bait 
well understood to catch the labourer re- 
turning from his work to a comfortless 
home. If he once gets 

" planted unco right, 

Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely," 

there is no chance of his quitting, till, like 
Tarn O'Shanter, he is compelled by neces- 
sity. The essential quality of a fire is to 
be bright without being too hot, and the 
best and quickest mode of restoring a 
neglected fire is to stir out the ashes, and 
with the tongs to fill up the spaces between 
the bars with cinders. If carefully done, 
it is surprising how soon this process will 
produce an effective and glowing fire. 
While I w \s writing the above, a friend 



106 THE ART OF DINING. 



of mine called to propose that we should 
dine together at the Athenaeum, and he 
would send a brace of grouse he had just 
received. We dined very satisfactorily, 
but agreed that a perfect edition of our din- 
ner would have been as follows : — First, a 
dozen and a half of small oysters, not 
pampered, but fresh from their native bed, 
eaten simply, after the French fashion, 
with lemon-juice, to give an edge to the 
appetite. In about twenty minutes, the 
time necessary for dressing them, three 
fine flounders water-zoutcheed, with brown 
bread and butter — a dish which is better 
served at the Athenaeum than any where I 
know. At a short interval after the 
flounders, the grouse, not sent up together, 
but one after the other, hot and hot, like 
mutton chops, each accompanied by a 



THE ART OF DINING. 107 



plate of French beans. With the floun- 
ders half a pint of sherry, and with the 
grouse a bottle of genuine claret, which we 
get for three and sixpence a bottle ; after 
which, a cup each of strong hot coffee. 
This is a style of dining, which made us 
think of the gorgeous, encumbered style 
with pity and contempt, and I give these 
particulars by way of study, and as a step 
toward emancipation. After my desultory 
manner I must here mention an instance 
of Darbaric ornament I witnessed a short 
time since at a dinner which, substantially, 
was excellent. I had to carve a tongue, 
and found my operations somewhat im- 
peded by a couple of ranunculuses stuck, 
into it, sculptured one in turnips, and the 
other in carrot. It was surrounded by a 
thin layer of spinach, studded with small 



1 08 THE ART OF D I X I N G. 



stars, also cut in carrot. What have 
ranunculuses and stars to do with tongue 
and spinach ? To my mind, if they had 
been on separate and neighbouring dishes, 
and unadorned, it would have been much 
more to the purpose. 

At length 1 am come to the considera- 
tion of that important accompaniment to 
dinner — wine, in the management of which 
there is ordinarily a lamentable want of 
judgment, or rather a total absence of it. 
Besides an actual want of judgment, there 
is frequently a parsimonious calculation on. 
the one hand, or an ostentatious profusion 
and mixture on the other, both destructive 
in their different ways, of true enjoyment. 
The art in using wine is to produce the 
greatest possible quantity of present glad- 
ness, without any future depression. To 



THE ART OF DINING. 109 



tliis end, a certain degree of simplicity is 
essential, with due attention to seasons and 
kinds of food, and particularly to the rate 
of filling the glass. Too many sorts of 
wines confuse the palate and derange 
digestion. The stronger wines, unless 
very sparingly used, are apt to heat in hot 
weather, and the smaller kinds are unsatis- 
factory when it is cold. The rate at 
which to take wine is a matter of great 
nicety and importance, and depends upon 
different circumstances at different times. 
Care and observation can alone enable any 
one to succeed in this point. The same 
quantity of wine, drunk judiciously or 
injudiciously, will produce the best or the 
worst effects. Drinking too quick is much 
more to be avoided than drinking too slow. 
The former is positively, the latter nega- 



110 THE ART OF DINING. 



tively, evil. Drinking too quick confuses 
both the stomach and the brain ; drinking 
too slow disappoints them. After long 
fasting, begin slowly and after a solid 
foundation, and quicken by degrees. After 
exhaustion from other causes than fasting, 
reverse this order. Small wines may be 
drunk with less caution as to rate than the 
fuller bodied. As soon as the spirits are a 
little raised, slacken the pace, contrary to 
the usual practice, whicli is to quicken it. 
When the proper point of elevation is 
attained, so use the glass as just to keep 
there, whereby enjoyment is prolonged 
without alloy. The moment the palate 
begins to pall, leave off. Continuation after 
that will often produce a renewed desire, 
the gratification of which is pernicious. 
This state is rather an unfitness for leaving 



THE ART OF DINING. Ill 



off than a fitness for going on. In respect 
to simplicity, I think four kinds of wine 
the very utmost ever to be taken at one 
time, and with observance of what wines 
go well together ; as sherry, champagne, 
port, and claret ; but they should be drunk 
in uniform order, and not first one and 
then another, and then back again, which 
is a senseless and pernicious confusion. 
For my own part, I rather like one kind 
of wine at a time, or at most two ; and I 
think more is lost than gained by variety. 
I should lay down the same rules as to 
wines, as I have already done as to meats ; 
that is simplicity on the same day, and 
variety on different days. Port only, 
taken with or without a little water, at din- 
ner, is excellent ; and the same of claret. 1 
think on ordinary occasions, such a system 



11*21 THE ART OF DINING. 



is by far the most agreeable. Claret, I 
mean genuine, undoctored claret, which, in 
my opinion, is the true taste, is particularly 
good as a dinner wine, and is now to be 
had at a very reasonable price. I would 
not wish better than that given at the 
Athenaeum at three and sixpence a bottle. 
Rhenish wines are very wholesome and 
agreeable, drunk simply without other 
wines ; I do not think they harmonize 
well with champagne. As to seasons, the 
distinction is obvious that light wines are 
the best in summer : but then care should 
be taken, for the sake of health, that they 
are sound ; and with much fruit, perhaps, 
a little of stronger wine is advisable. In 
winter generous wine is to be preferred, 
and it is a pleasant variety to have it occa- 
sionally spiced or mulled, especially in 



THE ART OF DINING. 113 



very dreary weather, or after severe ex- 
posure. In hot weather, beverages of 
various kinds, having wine for their found- 
ation, and well iced, are very grateful. 
There is scarcely any luxury greater in 
summer than wine and water, cooled with 
a lump of ice put into it, though it is sel- 
dom practised in this country. In Italy, 
a plate of pure ice is regularly served 
during the hot season. In England, un- 
fortunately, a great deal of money is wasted 
on excess, while simple luxuries are al- 
most altogether neglected. The adaptation 
of wines to different kinds of food is a 
matter not to be neglected. The general 
rule is to drink white wine with white 
meats, and red with brown, to which may 
be added, that light wines are most suita- 
ble to light dishes, or to the French style, 
8 



Ill THE ART OF DINING. 

and the stronger to substantial dishes, or 
the English style ; but this latter rule has 
many exceptions. I must not here pass over 
altogether the excellencies of malt liquor, 
though it is rather difficult to unite the use 
of it judiciously with that of wine. When 
taken together, it should be in great mode- 
ration, but I rather prefer a malt liquor day 
exclusively now and then, by way of vari- 
ety, or to take it at luncheon. There is 
something extremely grateful in the very 
best table beer, and it is to be lamented it 
is so rarely to be met with in the perfec- 
tion of which it is capable. That beverage 
at dinner, and two or three glasses of first 
rate ale after, constitute real luxury, and I 
believe are a most wholesome variety. 
Good porter needs no praise, and bottled 
porter iced, is, in hot weather, most re- 



THE ART OF D1XIXO. 115 



freshing. Cider cup, lemonade, and iced 
punch in summer, and hot in winter, are 
all worthy of their turns ; but I do not 
think their turns come as often as they 
ought to do. We go on in the beaten track, 
without profiting by the varieties which 
are to be found on every side. 

What I have hitherto said has been with 
a view principally to individual guidance 
in the use of wine, though much of it may 
be applied to the management of parties. 
In the management of parties, so far as re- 
lates to wine, judgment, liberality, attention, 
and courage are necessary ; and calcula- 
tion, inattention, ostentation, profusion, 
and excess, are the vices to be guarded 
against. I always take for granted, that 
whatever wine is produced, it is to be good 
of its knid. Judgment is necessary in 



116 THE ART OF DINING. 

knowing what wines are suitable to the 
season, the food, and the description of 
guests ; in what order to serve them, at 
what rate to drink, and when to stop. 
Liberality is necessary to furnish promptly 
and cheerfully the requisite supply ; atten- 
tion is necessary to execute what the judg- 
ment suggests ; and courage is necessary 
to keep the erring, either from ignorance 
or refractoriness, in the right path, and to 
stop at the right point. The master of a 
feast should be master in deed as well as in 
name, and on his judicious and confident 
control depends for the most part real 
convivial enjoyment ; but he should govern 
rather by imperceptible influence than by 
any outward demonstration, or appearance 
of interference. He should set the wine in 
circulation at the earliest fitting moment, 



THE ART OF DINING. 117 



for want of attention to which there is 
often a flagging at the outset. He should 
go on rather briskly at first, and should 
then contrive to regulate its pace according 
to the spirits of the party. He should 
cause the wines to be served in their pro- 
per order, and should preserve that order 
as much as in him lies, both by his own 
example, and by good humoured recom- 
mendation. He should let his guests know 
what he intends, so that they may have 
an opportunity of regulating themselves 
accordingly ; as, if he thinks proper to pro- 
duce only a certain quantity of any parti- 
cular wine, he should say so. Uncertainty 
is fatal to convivial ease, and the reintro- 
duction of any kind of wine, after other 
wines have intervened, is specially to be 
avoided. This error arises either from 



118 THE ART OF DINING. 

want of courage in allowing a violation of 
propriety, or from a calculation that there 
would be enough, when there turns out not 
to be enough, and then hesitating to supply 
the deficiency at the proper moment. He 
should be liberal as long as liberality is 
beneficial, and as soon as he perceives that 
the proper point to stop at is arrived, he 
should fearlessly act upon his perception. 
There is a liberal, hearty manner, which 
prevents suspicion, and enables the pos- 
sessor to exercise his judgment not only 
without offence, but with approbation. 
Calculation, however studiously concealed, 
sheds a baneful influence over conviviality, 
what nothing can counteract. Inattention 
causes things either to go on wrong, or not 
to go on at all. Ostentation excites disgust 
or contempt, and destroys enjoyment for 



THE ART OF DINING. 119 



the sake of display, by introducing variety 
without reference to reason. Profusion 
produces the same effect from ignorance or 
mistaken liberality. There may be excess 
without variety, though it is not so proba- 
ble. It is much more often the result of 
want of courage in the master of the feast, 
than of inclination on the part of the 
guests, and good government in the begin- 
ning is the surest guarantee of a temperate 
termination. In what I have said, I have 
supposed the giver of an entertainment to 
have means at his command ; but where 
it is not so, the plainest wines, provided 
they are sound, and are heartily and judi- 
ciously given according to the rules I have 
laid down, cannot fail to give satisfaction 
to the reasonable, and more satisfaction too 
than the most costly, with the many draw- 



120 THE ART OF DINING. 

backs which usually accompany them. 
They are for the most part exposed to the 
same fate that I have already described to 
await delicacies in food ; that is, they are 
so mixed up and encumbered with other 
things, as to be deprived of their relish, 
and reduced to the level of their inferiors, 
or even below. It is to be wished that 
those who are not in the way of giving 
costly wines, would never attempt it ; be- 
cause they are only putting themselves to 
inconvenience, and their guests to greater. 
It is a very serious tax upon one's palate 
and veracity, to be obliged to drink and 
pronounce upon compounds with names to 
which they have not the most remote pre- 
tension. What I have said heretofore 
about dinners applies equally to wines. 
Let people keep to their own proper style, 



THE ART OF DINING. 121 



and endeavour to excel in what is within 
their ordinary reach. A little extra atten- 
tion and a little extra expense are then 
productive of satisfactory results, and they 
are sure to please others without any sacri- 
fice of what is due to themselves. I have 
yet to make some particular observations 
on the use of champagne, which I must 
defer, with two or three other topics, to 
my next chapter. 



122 THE ART OF DINING. 



CHAPTER IX. 

I concluded my last chapter with pro- 
mising to make some observations on the 
use of champagne. Of whatever materials 
composed, I never knew a party that could 
be said to go off ill, where there was a judi- 
ciously liberal supply of good champagne. 
I say judiciously liberal, because there 
may be too much, as well as too little, 
though the error, comparatively speaking, 
is seldom on the side of excess ; but I have 
seen, when a party has been raised to 
what I call the champagne point of convi- 
viality, that an extra quantity has caused a 
retrograde mo rement, by clogging the 



T II E ART OF D I N I N G. 1 23 



digestive powers. In this, as in all other 
matters relating to the table, but here espe- 
cially, much must depend upon the eye, 
the judgment, and the resolution of the 
master. He must have liberality to give, 
attention and skill to regulate, and courage 
to stop. There are two classes of dinner- 
givers to whom I do not address myself on 
this subject, because I know it would be 
in vain. The first is that class who began 
their career, and had their habits formed, 
during the war, when champagne was 
double the price it is now. They gave it 
then like drops of blood, and I have never 
yet seen an instance of liberalization. 
The second class is that who merely give 
it as a part of their state, and deal it out to 
the state prisoners round their table only 
to tantalize them. I have no hope, then, 



124 THE ART OF DINING. 



of producing any effect except upon those 
who date their assumption of table govern- 
ment on this side the battle of Waterloo, 
and who have, or are capable of acquiring, 
the same contempt of show that I myself 
have. 

To give champagne fair play, it ought to 
be produced at the very beginning of din- 
ner, or at any rate after one glass of sherry 
or Madeira. Any other wines rather unfit 
the palate for it. The usual mode is, as 
with other delicacies, to produce it after the 
appetite is somewhat palled, and I have 
often thought it particularly ungallant and 
ungracious, where there are ladies, to keep 
it back till a late period of dinner ; and 
such a practice often presents an absurd 
contrast of calculation and display. Ac- 
cording to my doctrines, the champagne 



THE ART OF DINING. 125 

should be placed upon the table, so that all 
may take what they like, when they like, 
till the presiding genius pronounces in his 
own mind that there has been enough, 
which is not difficult to a practised eye. 
This supposes a supply at discretion up to 
the champagne point, which is very agree- 
able on particular occasions, or now and 
then without any particular occasion, but 
would not be convenient to most people, 
or even desirable, if convenient. I am far 
from objecting to a limited supply, even 
the most limited — that is, one glass round ; 
but I do object to the period when it is 
usually served, and to the uncertainty with 
which it is served. Where it is handed 
round, and meant to be so only once, 
twice, or any greiter fixed number of 
times, to which limits there can be no 



i 20 T li E ART OF DINING. 



objection, the rule I would lay down is, 
that it should be handed round after the 
first glass of sherry, and if more than 
once, without any other wine between, 
and that it should be contrived to notify 
beforehand what the supply will be. ' It 
might be thought rather awkward to make 
the communication. That, I think, would 
depend on custom and tact. I am sure I 
should have no hesitation in making it, 
and, at any rate, the awkward effects often 
arising from uncertainty would be much 
greater. What can exceed the awkward- 
ness of two persons who are going to take 
wine together, beating about the bush to 
get each the other to propose champagne — 
a scene I have frequently witnessed be- 
tween the best bi ?d people ? What can ex- 
ceed the awkwardness of asking for it when 



T II K ART OF DINING. 127 

there is no more, or of waiting till a fresh 
supply is brought, contrary to the original 
intention ? All these awkwardnesses are 
the consequences of uncertainty, and are 
much at variance with the ease that is 
essential to conviviality. An annunciation 
that there is champagne without limit, or. 
that it will be handed round once, or twice, 
or oftener, saves these embarrassments. If 
it is placed upon the table, I would make 
a similar annunciation, as indeed I always 
do, that there is to be one bottle, two, or 
more, or at discretion. Then people 
know what they are about, and are at their 
ease, for want of which there is no com- 
pensation. By means of previous annun- 
ciation even the entertainers of the old 
school, and the nnn of state, might make 
their calculation available to a satisfactory 



128 THE ART OF DINING. 

purpose. The advantages of giving cham- 
pagne, with whatever limit, at the begin- 
ning of dinner, are these : that it has the 
greatest relish, that its exhilarating quality 
serves to start the guests, after which they 
seldom flag, and that it disposes people to 
fake less of other wines after, which is a 
relative, and sometimes even an absolute, 
saving to the pocket of the host, and it is 
undoubtedly a saving to the constitutions 
of his guests. With wines as with meats, 
serving the most delicate first, diminishes 
consumption, — a desirable effect in all 
respects. I know that a couple of glasses 
round of champagne at the beginning of 
dinner, will cause a less consumption, and 
with better effect, than the same quantity, 
or more, at a later period ; and where 
there are laJie?, the portion they choose to 



THE ART OF D I N IN G. 129 



take, is most grateful to them upon this 
plan, and often the only wine they wish to 
accept. At the present price of cham- 
pagne, if it is judiciously given, I believe it 
is on many occasions little or no additional 
expense, and its effect is always contribu- 
tive of exhilaration. By promoting ex- 
hilaration it promotes digestion, and by 
diminishing the consumption of other and 
perhaps stronger wines, is consequently 
favourable to health. No other wine pro- 
duces an equal effect in increasing the suc- 
cess of a party ; and a judicious cham- 
pagne giver is sure to win the good-will and 
respect even of those who can command it 
at pleasure, because a great deal depends 
upon the mode of dispensing it. If it is 
handed round often, it should not be 
handed round quick, at least after the 
9 



130 THE ART OF DINING. 



second glass, but at such intervals as the 
host points out. If it is placed upon the 
table within every one's reach, his nicely 
regulating power is necessary to give it 
sufficient, but to restrain over circulation. 
As the only anxiety of many, who give 
parties regardless of expense, is that they 
should go off well, I must repeat that they 
cannot fail, if there is a liberal supply 
of good champagne, heartily given. Of 
course there will be various degrees of 
success depending upon various circum- 
stances, but champagne can always turn 
the balance to the favourable side, and 
heartiness in giving will compensate for 
many defects in other particulars. I must 
here add, that in little fetes champetres 
champagne has great efficacy, and is a spe- 
cific against that want of spirit that not 



THE ART OF DINING. 131 



un frequently occurs ; also on any convivial 
occasion, where there is an absence of 
something desirable in the way of comfort 
or convenience, or where any disappoint- 
ment has happened, champagne is the most 
powerful auxiliary in remedying the omis- 
sion, and making it forgotten. In short, 
where champagne goes right nothing can 
well go wrong. I think it quite a waste to 
produce it unless it is iced, or at least of the 
temperature of cold spring water, and in 
hot weather its coldness is one of its most 
effective qualities. The less it is mixed 
with other wines, the better it agrees with 
any one, and the objectionable effects attri- 
buted to it are often in reality the result of 
too much combination with other liquids. 
Taken simply and in due quantity, I think 
there are few constitutions to which it 



132 THE ART OF DINING. 

would not be beneficial, and I have fre- 
quently seen invalids who I have thought 
would have been all the better for an alter- 
ative course of it. 

With respect to the kind of champagne 
to be preferred, that depends, I think, upon 
the occasion. The kind I have been allud- 
ing to throughout this chapter is the spark- 
ling. I know many people affect to hold 
it in utter contempt in comparison with 
the still ; but I suspect not a few of them 
do so to show their grandeur and their 
learning, rather than from their real taste. 
Undoubtedly still champagne, generally 
speaking, is a higher class of wine, and in 
a more perfect state than the sparkling ; 
but it is almost as difficult to compare the 
two, as it would bo to compare champagne 
with port. Still champagne is suitable to 



THE ART OF DINING. 133 



a grave party, talking over matters of state. 
But the sparkling is much better adapted 
to give brilliancy and joyousness, and for 
that purpose I believe would be preferred 
by almost every body. Its very appear- 
ance is inspiring. In wines there is about 
the same difference between these two, 
that in poetry exists between Paradise 
Lost and the Rape of the Lock. When 
sparkling champagne is opened, the cork 
should not fly out as from a bottle of soda 
water : when it does, it marks that the 
wine is in too crude a state, and has not 
been sufficiently fermented. I think its 
good qualities are the most effective, when 
it is somewhat more active than merely 
creaming ; when it has a certain liveliness, 
combined with flavour and coldness, which 
makes it, according to my taste, delight 



134 THE ART OF DINING. 



fully grateful. I believe I am now come to 
the end of the observations I had to make 
upon the use of champagne. I will here 
supply a slight omission in the proper place, 
on the subject of desserts. I have stated 
that I was no great friend to them, but I 
must mention that the most eligible mode 
I ever saw of serving them was by group- 
ing the fruit upon a low, wooden plateau, 
which was placed in the middle of the 
table. It was the least trouble in setting 
on, it left the greatest space, and had the 
richest and most tasteful appearance. I 
doubt whether after dinner is a proper 
time to serve ice, that is, if dinners are 
arranged, as I have recommended in a 
former chapter, according to the season. 
I am rather inclined to think that ice would 
be better alone, and later in the evening. 



THE ART OF DINING. 135 



It certainly spoils the palate for a time 
for wine, and is principally grateful, before 
the dessert, in counteracting the heating 
and oppressive effects of over-grown 
repasts. 

My next topic is the means of limiting 
dinners to small parties, and the effect of 
such limit in carrying on society in the 
most convenient and agreeable manner. 
The apparent impediments to small parties 
are large families and numerous acquaint- 
ance. I shall here assume that small par- 
ties are the most desirable, if attainable, 
and that the system I advocate of moderate 
repasts, whether simple as to the number 
of dishes, or varied, and totally free from 
state and ostentation, is the best. In such 
a system the trouble of cooking and serv- 
ing would be much less than in the present 



130 THE ART OF DINING. 



mode of entertaining company, and the 
whole business less complicated and 
anxious, and as far as acquaintance are 
concerned, one party might be divided into 
two without any increase of household 
care, but the reverse. If it is considered 
necessary to have a numerous company on 
the same day, I should think it advisable 
to divide them into two or more tables ; 
because, as it is impossible there should be 
a unity of party at a table above a certain 
size, there is the best chance of it by such 
divisions as may each secure a unity. By 
a unity I mean where there is general con- 
versation only, instead of particular or par- 
tial. It is absurd to call that one party 
which is broken into many, but which sits 
at one table. Sociability would be much 
promoted by at once forming it into divi- 



THE ART OF DINING. 1 37 



sions at different tables. I have heard of 
this being- practised at ball suppers with 
the greatest success, and I do not see why 
there should not be equal success at din- 
ners. It is alway to be borne in mind that 
setting out a dinner-table is a far less ope- 
rose business according to my doctrines, 
than according to prevailing custom, and 
that setting out and serving two tables for 
eight persons each, would not be so much 
trouble as it now is to set out and serve one 
table for sixteen ; whereas, in the former 
case, there would be two agreeable parties, 
instead of one dull one in the latter. The 
same principle applies most strongly where 
there is a large family. Division of tables 
on occasion of entertaining company would 
then in my opinion be particularly conve- 
nient and advantageous ; and I should think 



138 THE ART OF DINING. 

that often dinners at different hours of 
the day, according to the avocations or in- 
clinations of a large family, and their inti- 
macies, would greatly promote its well- 
being. It might suit some to dine at one 
hour and some at another, and to entertain 
their particular friends in an easy way, 
with a reunion of the whole in the evening, 
when numbers may meet advantageously. 
A free, simple style of living would admit 
of this without difficulty. Suppose, for 
instance, one part of a large family dining 
at four o'clock, with or without any stran- 
gers, and another at seven, according to 
their previous arrangements, and all meet- 
ing in the drawing-room, or disposing of 
themselves according to their different pur- 
suits. One of the great advantages of a 
simple stately style of living is, that it 



THE ART OF DINING. 139 



admits of so much liberty in various ways, 
and allows of many enjoyments, which 
the cumbrous style totally prevents. I 
think it would be the perfection of society 
if there were a constant current of small 
dinner parties for the purpose of enjoyment 
only, and a general mixing - up on easy 
terms in the evening, according to each 
person's circle of acquaintance. I have 
heard people say that they have tried to 
get evening society, according to the 
French manner of droppers-in, but that 
they have never been able to succeed. 
The truth is, that no individual, or small 
number of individuals, will ever make such 
a plan succeed for long together. It must 
be the general custom in order to have per- 
manent and complete success. I have 
frequented houses in that way at times, 



Ill T II E ART 01 DIM N 0. 

but always found it more irksome than 
agreeable, simply from the uncertainty of 
finding the inmates at home, and the 
repeated disappointments of finding them 
out. These objections would vanish if 
the custom of receiving in an evening were 
general, because if one family was not at 
home, another would be, and a person in 
search of society would be sure to find it 
somewhere, instead of returning unsuc- 
cessful. It is an annoyance to prepare, 
and make up one's mind, for society, and 
then not to meet with it. The temptation 
to remain at home is too strong to venture 
upon a speculation where there are so 
many chances against success. But if 
any one had a number of acquaintances in 
the same quarter, who received in an even- 
ing, an inclination for society might always 



THE ART OF DINING. 1^1 



be gratified with sufficient certainty to 
induce the attempt. Some visible sign, 
indicating whether they received at any 
house on any given evening, or whether 
the number was full, would save trouble to 
visiters, and would ensure complete priva- 
cy, whenever desired, or society to the 
extent desired, and not beyond. It would 
be a great improvement in the world, and 
a great advantage to the rich, if they would 
spend that portion of their means, which 
they dedicate to social intercourse, in pro- 
curing real enjoyment for their visitants, 
rather than in that state and display, for 
which no reasonable person cares, or 
which, it may be more truly said, every 
reasonable person dislikes and despises. 
If, for instance, a rich man were to give 
simply excellent dinners, and provide his 



142 THE ART OF DINING. 

guests with accommodation at places of 
public amusement, he would give them 
more satisfaction than by inviting them to 
the most sumptuous entertainments, and 
would most likely much increase his own 
enjoyment. Such a practice would tend 
greatly to improve public amusements, and 
would add to their interest by giving bril- 
liancy to the scene. There are many ways 
in which those who have a command of 
means, have opportunities of rendering 
social intercourse with them peculiarly 
advantageous and interesting to persons of 
smaller fortunes ; but, as it is, in general, 
the richer the host the duller the enter- 
tainment, principally because expense is 
lavished in the wrong direction, without 
taste, or invention, or rational end. 

In order to make a dinner go orT well, a 



THE ART OF DINING. 143 



good deal often depends upon the giver's 
mode of receiving his company. In the 
hrst place, he should always be ready ; he 
should receive cordially, so as to let his 
guests feel inspired by an air of welcome ; 
and he should set them well off together 
by the introduction of suitable topics. It 
is usually seen that the host receives his 
guests almost as if they were strangers to 
him, and after a word or two leaves them 
to manage for themselves as well as they 
can, by wandering about, or turning over 
books, or some resource of that sort, if 
they happen not to be well known to some 
of the company ; and even persons who 
are in the habit of meeting, often seem to 
be actuated by a feeling of mutual reserve 
for want of being well started by the host. 
It frequently requires some time after the 



14 1 THE ART OF DINING. 



dinner has commenced, to take off the 
chill of the first assembling, and in respect 
to individuals, it sometimes never is taken 
off during the whole party. During din- 
ner it is expedient for the head of the feast 
to keep his eye upon every thing around 
him, and not to occupy himself exclu- 
sively, as many do, with those immedi- 
ately near, or, what is worse, to sink into 
fits of abstraction or anxiety. The alacrity 
and general attention of the host furnish 
the spring from which the guests usually 
take their tone, and where they are not 
well known to each other, it is good to 
address each frequently by name, and to 
mention subjects on which they have some 
common interest. There is also much 
tact required in calling into play diffident 
or reserved merit, and in preventing too 



THE ART OF DINING. 145 



much individual monopoly of conversa- 
tion, however good. In order to have 
perfect success, the guests must be capa- 
ble of being well mixed up together, and 
the host must be capable of mixing them, 
which unfortunately few are; but many 
are much more capable than they appear 
to be, if they would turn their attention to 
the subject. These latter observations are 
more applicable to large parties than to 
small ones, but they do apply to both. 

I have now come to the conclusion of 
what occurs to" me on the subject of Aristo- 
logy, or the Art of Dining and giving din- 
ners, which subject the reader will perceive 
I have treated in the most familiar and per- 
haps in too careless a way. I have written 
off-hand, as matter suggested itself from 
the stores of experience. I have always 
10 



146 THE ART OF DINING. 



advanced what I thought to be right, with- 
out the slightest fear of being sometimes 
wrong ; and I have given myself no thought 
as to exposure to ridicule, or any thing else. 
My object is in this, as in every other 
subject on which I touch, to set my read- 
ers to think in the right track, and to direct 
them in their way as well as I can. 



ipieji aim @^ 



®ttuininQ Ifefflii health. 



J 47 



THE ART 



ATTAINING HIGH HEALTH. 



CHAPTER I. 



If my readers are like myself, it will be 
satisfactory to them to know what autho- 
rity I have for treating on the subject of 
attaining high health, and what is my ex- 
perience. My acquaintance of later years 
are accustomed to treat my precepts as theo- 
retical, and to maintain that I am indebted 
for the health they see me enjoy, to an ori- 
ginally very strong constitution ; with what 
truth the following statement will show. 

Some months before I was born, my 

149 



150 ART OF ATTAINING 



mother lost a favourite child from illness, 
owing, as she accused herself, to her own 
temporary absence ; and that circumstance 
preyed upon her spirits and affected her 
health to such a degree, that I was brought 
into the world in a very weakly and 
wretched state. It was supposed I could 
not survive long, and nothing, I believe, but 
the greatest maternal tenderness and care 
preserved my life. During childhood I 
was very frequently and seriously ill — 
often thought to be dying, and once pro- 
nounced to be dead. I was ten years old 
before it was judged safe to trust me from 
home at all, and my father's wishes to place 
me at a public school were uniformly 
opposed by various medical advisers, on 
the ground that it would be my certain 
destruction. Besides continual bilious 



HIGH HEALTH. 151 



and inflammatory attacks, for several years 
I was grievously troubled with an affection 
of the trachea, and many times, after any 
excess in diet or exertion, or in particular 
states of the weather, or where there was 
new hay or decayed timber, my difficulty 
of breathing was so great, that life was 
miserable to me. On one occasion at 
Cambridge I was obliged to send for a sur- 
geon in the middle of the night, and he told 
me the next morning he thought I should 
have died before he could open a vein. I 
well remember the relief it afforded my 
agony, and I only recovered by living for 
six weeks in a rigidly abstemious and most 
careful manner. During these years, and 
for a long time after, I felt no security of 
my health. At last, one day when I had 
shut myself up in the country, and was 



152 ART OF ATTAINING 



reading with great attention Cicero's trea- 
tise De Oratore, some passage, I quite for- 
get what, suggested to me the expediency 
of making the improvement of my health 
my study. I rose from my book, stood 
bolt upright, and determined to be well. 
In pursuance of my resolution, I tried 
many extremes, was guilty of many 
absurdities, and committed many errors, 
amidst the remonstrances and ridicule of 
those around me. I persevered neverthe- 
less, and it is now, I believe, full sixteen 
years since I have had any medical advice, or 
taken any medicine, or any thing whatever 
by way of medicine. During that period 
I have lived constantly in the world, for 
the last six years in London without ever 
being absent during any one whole week, 
and I have never foregone a single engage- 



HIGH HEALTH. 1 53 

ment of business or pleasure, or been con- 
fined one hour, with the exception of two 
days in the country from over exertion. For 
nine years I have worn neither great-coat 
nor cloak, though I ride and walk at all 
hours and in all weathers. My dress has 
been the same in summer and winter, my 
under garments being single and only of 
cotton, and I am always lightly shod. 
The only inconvenience I suffer is occa- 
sionally from colds ; but with a little more 
care I could entirely prevent them, or, if I 
took the trouble, I could remove the most 
severe in four-and-twenty hours. I do not 
mean it to be understood, that the same 
simple means would produce so rapid a 
cure in all persons, but only in those who 
may have acquired the same tendency to 
health that I have — a tendency of which ] 



154 ART OF ATTAINING 



believe all persons are much more capable 
than they suppose. 

In the course of my pursuit after health, 
I once brought myself to a pure and buoy- 
ant state, of which previously I had no 
conception, and which I shall hereafter 
describe. Having attained so great a 
blessing, I afterwards fell off to be content 
with that negative condition, which I call 
the condition of not being ill, rather than 
of being well. Real health produces an 
elasticity and vigour of body and mind, 
which makes the possessors of it, in the 
characteristic words of the Ploughman 
poet, 

" O'er all the ills of life victorious." 

And now having, I hope, excited the 
curiosity of my readers, and inspired them 



HIGH HEALTH. 155 



with some degree of confidence as to my 
qualifications for the task I have under- 
taken, I shall in my next chapter proceed 
to details. 



156 ART OF ATTAINING 



CHAPTER II. 

After making many blunders in my 
endeavours to improve my health, I disco- 
vered that I had fallen into the great, but, 
I believe, common error of thinking how 
much food I could take in order to make 
myself strong, rather than how much I 
could digest to make myself well. I 
found that my vessels were overcharged, 
and my whole frame encumbered with 
superfluities, in consequence of which I 
was liable to be out of order from the 
slightest exciting causes. I began to take 
less sleep and more exercise, particularly 
before breakfast, at which meal I confined 
myself to half a cup of tea and a very 



HIGH HEALTH. 157 

moderate quantity of eatables. I dined at 
one o'clock from one dish of meat and one 
of vegetables, abstaining - from every thing 
else, and I drank no wine, and only half 
a pint of table-beer. At seven I had tea, 
observing the same moderation as at break- 
fast, and at half past nine a very light sup- 
per. If I was ever hungry during any 
other part of the day, I took a crust of 
bread or some fruit. xWy care was neither 
to anticipate my appetite, nor to overload 
it, nor to disappoint it — in fact, to keep it 
in the best possible humour. I continued 
this course almost invariably for several 
months. It was now the middle of a very 
6.13 summer, and I was residing at home 
in the country, alone with my mother, who 
was a remarkably easy and accommodating 
person, and to the contentment she inspired 



158 ART OF ATTAINING 



me with, I attribute a good deal of the ex 
traordinary state I arrived at. She used 
frequently to say she could not help look- 
ing at me, my features were so changed. 
Indeed, I felt a different being, light and 
vigorous, with all my senses sharpened. 
I enjoyed an absolutely glowing existence. 
I cannot help mentioning two or three 
instances in proof of my state, though I 
dare say they will appear almost ridiculous, 
but they are nevertheless true. It seems 
that from the surface of an animal in per- 
fect health, there is an active exhalation 
going on, which repels impurity ; for when 
I walked on the dustiest roads, not only 
my feet, but even my stockings, remained 
free from dust. By way of experiment, I 
did not wash my face for a week, nor did 
any one see, nor I feel, any difference. 



HIGH HEALTH. 159 



One day I took hold of the branch of a tree 
to raise myself from the ground, when I 
was astonished to feel such a buoyancy as 
to have scarcely any sense of weight. In 
this state all my sensations were the real 
and marked indications of my wants. No 
faintness, or craving, but a pleasurable 
keenness of appetite told me when to eat. 
I was in no uncertainty as to when I ought 
to leave off, for I ate heartily to a certain 
point, and then felt distinctly satisfied, 
without any feeling of oppression. No 
heaviness, but a pleasing composure preced- 
ed my desire for rest, and I woke from one 
sound, glowing sleep, completely refreshed. 
Exercise was delightful to me, and enough 
of it was indicated by a quiescent tenden- 
cy, without any harassing sensation of 
fatigue. I felt, and believe I was inacces- 



1 60 ART OF ATTAINING 



sible to disease ; and all this I attribute to 
the state of my digestion, on which it 
seems to me entirely depends tlie state of 
man. Being in health, it is easy to keep 
so, at least where there are facilities of 
living rationally ; but to get into health 
while living in the wurld, and after a long 
course of ignorance or imprudence, is of 
difficult attainment. 

I do not consider it at all necessary, or 
even desirable, to be strict in diet, when 
the constitution is once put into good 
order ; but to accomplish that end, it is 
certainly essential. It also requires great 
observation and attention to know what to 
practise and what to avoid in our habits of 
life ; and I see people constantly doing 
what is precisely the most prejudicial to 
them, without the least consciousness of 



HIGH HEALTH. 161 



their errors. It is now so long sime I 
was in the same state myself, that 1 iiid 
some difficulty in recollecting with suin- 
cient exactness what I might have thought 
it necessary to lay down for the benefit of 
valetudinarians. I will, however, in my 
next chapter give some of the most impor- 
tant particulars. 



11 



162 ART OF ATTAINING 



CHAPTER III. 

This is the golden rule — Content the 
stomach, and the stomach will content you. 
But it is often no easy matter to know how ; 
for like a spoiled child, or a wayward wife, 
it does not always know its own wants. 
It will cry for food when it wants none — 
will not say when it has had enough, and 
then be indignant for being indulged — will 
crave what it ought to reject, and reject 
what it ought to desire ; but all this is 
because you have allowed it to form bad 
habits, and then you ignorantly lay upon 
poor nature your own folly. Rational dis- 
cipline is as necessary for the stomach, as 
for the aforesaid child, or the aforesaid 



HIGH HEALTH. 103 

wife, and if you have not the sense or the 
resolution to enforce it, you must take the 
consequences ; but do not lay the fault 
upon another, and especially one generally 
so kind, if you would but follow her sim- 
ple dictates. " I am always obliged to 
breakfast before I rise — my constitution 
requires it," drawls out some fair votary 
of fashion. " Unless I take a bottle of 
port after dinner," cries the pampered 
merchant, " I am never well." " With- 
out my brandy and water before I go to 
bed, I cannot sleep a wink," says the com- 
fortable shopkeeper ; and all suppose they 
are following nature ; but sooner or later 
the offended goddess sends her avenging 
ministers in the shape of vapours, gout, or 
dropsy. 

Having long gone wrong, you must get 



1 G i ART OF ATTAINING 

right by degrees ; there is no summary 
process. Medicine may assist or give 
temporary relief; but you have a habit to 
alter — a tendency to change — from a ten- 
dency to being ill to a tendency to being 
well. First study to acquire a composure 
of mind and body. Avoid agitation or 
hurry of one or the other, especially just 
before and after meals, and while the pro- 
cess of digestion is going on. To this 
end, govern your temper — endeavour to 
look at the bright side of things — keep down 
as much as possible the unruly passions 
— discard envy, hatred, and malice, and 
lay your head upon your pillow in charity 
with all mankind. Let not your wants 
outrun your means. Whatever difhculties 
you have to encounter, be not perplexed, 
but think only what it is right to do in the 



HIGH HEALTH. 1 G5 



sight of Him who seeth all things, and 
bear without repining the result. When 
your meals are solitary, let your thoughts 
be cheerful ; when they are social, which 
is better, avoid disputes, or serious argu- 
ment, or unpleasant topics. " Unquiet 
meals," says Shakspeare, " make ill diges- 
tions ;" and the contrary is produced by 
easy conversation, a pleasant project, wel- 
come news, or a lively companion. I 
advise wives not to entertain their hus- 
bands with domestic grievances about 
children or servants, nor to ask for money, 
nor produce unpaid bills, nor propound 
unseasonable or provoking questions ; and 
I advise husbands to keep the cares and 
vexations of the world to themselves, but 
to be communicative of whatever is com- 
fortable, and cheerful, and amusing. 



166 ART OF ATTAINING 



With respect to composure of body, it 
is highly expedient not to be heated by 
exercise, either when beginning a meal, 
or immediately after one. In both cases 
fermentation precedes digestion, and the 
food, taken into the stomach, becomes 
more or less corrupted. I will mention 
two strong instances. A pig in high 
health was driven violently just after a full 
meal ; it dropped down dead, and at the 
desire of some labourers, who thought it 
was too good to be lost, a butcher forth- 
with proceeded to dress it. When the 
hair was scalded off, the skin presented in 
some places a somewhat livid hue, and 
when the stomach was opened, the con- 
tents were so extremely offensive, that all 
present, of whom I was one, were obliged 
to fly, and the carcass almost immediately 



HIGH HEALTH. 1 67 



became a mass of putridity. The second 
case was that of a man in the service of a 
relation of mine, who, after a harvest sup- 
per, and a hot day's labour, was thrown 
in a wrestling match, by which he instantly 
died, and decomposition took place so 
rapidly, that it was with difficulty his body 
within four and twenty hours could be 
placed in a coffin. While I was subject 
to the affection of the trachea before men- 
tioned, I frequently brought on the most 
distressing attacks, and sometimes instan- 
taneously, by heating myself just before or 
after meals. Even dressing in a hurry 
ought to be avoided previously to a meal, 
and I should advise all, especially invalids, 
to be ready a little beforehand, as the mind 
is also often in a state of hurry prejudicial 
to digestion. A.fter meals, stooping, lean- 



168 ART OF ATTAINING 



ing against the chest, going quick up 
stairs, opening or shutting a tight drawer, 
pulling off boots, packing up, or even 
any single contortion or forced position of 
the body, has each a tendency to cause 
fermentation, and thereby produce bile, 
heartburn, difficulty of breathing, and 
other derangements. I have often experi- 
enced ill effects from washing my feet at 
night instead of in the morning, fasting, 
which is decidedly the safest time. Of 
course, persons in high health may allow 
themselves liberties, but those who are at 
all liable to indigestion, cannot be too 
observant of even their most trifling ac- 
tons. In my next chapter I shall take up 
the subject of diet. 



HIGH HEALTH. 1G0 



CHAPTER IV. 

I must begin with a few remarks on my 
last chapter. I have there dwelt on the 
ill consequences of being heated by exer- 
cise just before or after meals. There 
is one case which seems to be almost an 
exception ; I mean that of dancing imme- 
diately before or after supper — at least, I 
never suffered any inconvenience from it 
in my ailing days, though I cannot speak 
from much experience. Bui further, I do not 
call to mind any instances in other persons, 
and at any rate they cannot be so common 
as would be the case from any other mode 
of equal exertion under similar circum- 
stances. The reason I take to be this — 



170 ART OF ATTAINING 



that from the enlivening effect upon the 
spirits, the digestive powers are able to 
overcome any tendency to fermentation ; 
and if that be so, it proves the extreme 
healthfulness of the exercise, when taken 
rationally and for its own sake, instead of, 
as it usually is, as an exhibition, in over- 
crowded and over-heated rooms at the 
most unseasonable hours. 

I particularly recommended in my last 
chapter attention to the state of the mind, 
because the effect of the spirits is very 
great and often even instantaneous in acce- 
lerating or retarding the digestive powers; 
and upon the digestive powers immediately 
depends whatever happens to our physical 
being. Whenever food is taken into the 
stomach, it begins directly to undergo ? 
change, either from the action of the gas- 



HIGH HEALTH. 171 



trie juice, which is the desirable one, or 
from that of the natural heat. In the latter 
case, a sensation of fulness and weight is 
first produced, and then of more active un- 
easiness, as fermentation proceeds ; and at 
last, when digestion commences, it is upon 
a mass more or less corrupted, according 
to the quantity and nature of the food, the. 
time it Iras remained, the heat of the body, 
and perhaps other circumstances. The 
mind will frequently regulate all this, as 
I have repeatedly experienced ; for a 
feeling of lightness or oppression, of fer- 
mentation or quiescence, will come or go 
as the spirits rise or fall, and the effect is 
generally immediately perceptible in the 
countenance, and felt throughout the whole 
frame. Such influence has the mind on 
the digestive powers, and the digestive 



172 ART OF ATTAINING 

powers on the body; and when we 
speak of a -ight or heavy heart, we con- 
found it with a less romantic organ. The 
heart, it is true, will beat quicker or slower, 
but the lightness or heaviness we feel, is 
not there. There is no sickness of the heart ; 
it needs no cordial ; and the swain who 
places his hand in front, whatever the polite 
may think, is the right marksman. There 
lies our courage, and thence proceed our 
doubts and fears. These truths should 
make us careful how we live ; for upon the 
digestive organ mainly depend beauty and 
strength of person, and beauty and strength 
of mind. Even the most eminently gifted 
have never been proof against its derange- 
ment. It is through the digestion that grief 
and all the brooding affections of the mind, 
affect the frame, and make the countenance 



HIGH HEALTH. 173 



fallen, pa. "3, and liny, which causes Shak- 
speare to call it " hard-favoured grief," and 
to say that "grief is beauty's canker." 
On the other hand, joy, or any pleasurable 
affection of the mind, which promotes 
digestion, at the same time fills and lights 
up the countenance. Often when I have 
been taking a solitary meal, the appearance 
of an agreeable companion, or reading any 
good news, has produced an instantaneous 
effect upon my digestive organs, and, 
through them, upon my whole frame. 
In the same way a judicious medical 
attendant will, in many cases, by talking 
his patient into an appetite, or raising his 
spirits, do him more good than by any 
medicines. That a!l this is through the 
stomach, I will prove by two instances. 
First, no one will dor.bt that the scurvy" 



1/4 ART OF ATTAINING 

proceeds from the state of that organ, and 
that through that organ alone it can be 
cured. Now, I have read in medical 
writers, that after a tedious voyage sailors, 
grievously afflicted, have repeatedly been 
know to have instantaneously experienced 
a turn in the disorder on the sight of land, 
and that soldiers besieged have been 
affected in like manner, on the appear- 
ance of succour ; that is, the spirits have 
produced the same effect that medicine or 
proper food would have produced, which 
must have been through the same organ. 
The second instance is what I have seve- 
ral times observed in my own person. 
When I have had any local inflammation 
from hurts, however remotely situated, 
what has affected my digestion, has at the 
same moment affected the inflammation. 



HIGH HEALTH 175 

Fasting too long, eating too soon, taking 
too much wine, or having my spirits low- 
ered, have instantly been unpleasantly per- 
ceptible in the seat of the inflammation ; 
while taking food or wine when wanted, 
or having my spirits raised, have produced 
the direct contrary effect. How this is 
effected anatomically, I leave to the scienti- 
fic to explain. I only know it from obser- 
vation ; but I do know it, and how to profit 
by it, and I tell it to my readers that 
they may profit by it too, which brings me 
to a repetition of my rule — Content the 
stomach, and the stomach will content 
you. 

To the caution I gave against stooping, 
after meals, I should add that it is particu- 
larly to be avoided with any thing tight 
round the body, and the same may be said 



170 ART OF ATTAINING 

of all the actions I have enumerated. They 
are also pernicious in proportion as the 
meal has been full or rich. Any thing 
greasy or strong, especially the skin of the 
fat of roast meat, when disturbed by exer- 
tion, will produce the most disagreeable 
effects, or perhaps bring on a regular 
bilious attack. Packing up, preparatory 
to a long journey by a publi* vehicle, used 
often to be a cause of serious inconvenience 
to my health from my mode of doing it. 
First of all laying in a hearty meal, because 
I had a great distance to go, the very rea- 
son why I ought to have been abstemious; 
then having to finish packing after eating, 
with more things than room for them, the 
hurry, vexation and exertion of arranging 
which, together with the fear of being too 
late, and bustling off, caused such a fer- 



)! I V. H UK ALT H. 



mentation as not only made my journey 
most uncomfortable, but made me gene- 
rally out of sorts for some time after. 
When I had brought myself into a regular 
state of health, and took care always to be 
beforehand with my arrangements, eating 
sparingly, and setting off composedly, I 
found an immense difference, particularly 
in the absence of any feeling of being 
cramped in my limbs, which feeling was 
always annoying in proportion to my 
improper living. 



12 



* 7 8 ART ' F ATTAINING 



CHAPTER V. 

What I have said in preceding chap- 
ters respecting the state of health I once 
attained, is not, I find, easily credited by 
those who have not had similar experience. 
I subjoin a passage from high professional 
authority — that of Dr. James Gregory, 
late Professor of Medicine in Edinburgh — 
confirmatory of my positions ; and those 
who will take the trouble to make the com- 
parison, will find how fully I am borne 
out. The passage was pointed out to me 
many years since by a physician, and I 
extracted it at the time, but had forgotten 
its contents till I had the curiosity to refer 



HIGH HEALTH. 170 



to it the other day, and I now give an 
abbreviated translation from the original 
Latin. I believe it is principally taken 
from Celsns. My most staggering asser- 
tion I take to be this: "It seems that from 
the surface of an animal in perfect health 
there is an active exhalation going on, 
which repels impurity; for when I walked 
on the dustiest roads, not only my feet, but 
even my stockings, remained free from 
dust." Dr. Gregory says of a person in high 
health — " the exhalation from the skin is 
free and constant, but without amounting 
to perspiration," — exhalatio per cut em 
libera et const arts, extra vero sudorem, 
which answers with remarkable precision 
to "my active exhalation," and the repul- 
sion of impurity is a necessary conse- 
quence. In fact it is perspiration so active 



180 ART OF ATTAINING. 



as to fly from the skin, instead of remain- 
ing upon it, or suffering any thing else to 
remain; just as we see an animal in high 
health roll in the mire, and directly after 
appear as clean as if it had been washed. 
I enter into these particulars, not to justify 
myself, but to g;;in the confidence of my 
readers, not only on this particular subject, 
but generally — more especially as I shall 
have frequently occasion to advance things 
out of the common way, though in the way 
of truth. I have before remarked that 
well-grounded faith has great virtue in 
other things besides religion. The want 
of it is an insuperable bar to improvement 
in things temporal, as well as in things 
spiritual, and is the reverse of St. Paul's 
" rejoiceth in the truth, believeth all things, 
hopeth all things;" for it believer, nothing 



HIGH HEALTH. 181 



and hopes nothing. It is the rule of an 
unfortunate sect of skeptics in excellence, 
who at the mention of any thing sound, 
look wonderfully wise, and shake their 
heads, and smile inwardly — infallible 
symptoms of a hopeless condition of hali- 
knowledge and self-conceit. But to return 
to the passage, which is as follows : 

" When a man is in perfect health, his 
mind is not only equal to the ordinary 
occasions of life, but is able easily to 
accommodate itself to all sorts of situations 
and pursuits ; his perception, understanding 
and memory, are correct, clear, and reten- 
tive ; he is firm and composed, whether in 
a grave or a lively humour — is always 
himself, and never the sport of inordinate 
a flections or external accidents ; he com- 
mands his passions instead of obeying 



182 ART OF ATTAINING 



them ; he enjoys prosperity with modera- 
tion, and adversity with fortitude, and is 
roused, not overwhelmed by extraordinary 
emergencies. These are not only the signs 
of a healthy mind, but of a healthy body 
also ; and indeed they do not a little con- 
tribute to health of body ; for as long as 
the mind is shut up within it, they will 
mutually and much affect each other. . . . 
" The muscles are full and firm, the 
skin soft, almost moist, and never dry, the 
colour, especially of the face, fresh and 
constant, and, whether fair or dark, never 
approaching to pale or yellow ; the counte- 
nance animated and cheerful; the eyes 
bright and lively ; the teeth sound and 
strong ; the step firm ; the limbs well sup- 
porting the body ; the carriage erect ; every 
sort of exercise easy ; and labour, though 



HIGH HEALTH. 183 

long and hard, borne without inconveni- 
ence ; all the organs of sense acute, neither 
torpid nor too sensitive ; sleep light and 
long, not easily disturbed, refreshing, and 
either without dreams, or at least without 
unpleasant ones, steeping the senses in 
sweet forge tfulness, or filling the mind with 
pleasant images. Other signs of a healthy- 
body are the temperate circulation of the 
blood, the pulse strong, full, soft, equal, 
neither too quick nor too slow, nor easily 
raised beyond the ordinary rate ; the respi- 
ration full, easy, slow, scarcely apparent, 
and not much accelerated by exercise ; the 
voice strong and sonorous, and in men 
deep, not easily made hoarse ; the breath 
sweet, at least without any thing to the con- 
trary ; the mouth moist ; the tongue bright, 
and not too red , the appetite strong, and 



184 ART OF ATTAINING 



requiring m stimulants; the thirst mode- 
rate ; the digestion of all sorts of food 
easy, without any fermentation, or sensa- 
tion of oppression ; and the exhalation 
from the skin free and constant, but with- 
out amounting to perspiration, except from 
the concurrence of strong causes." 

There is one very important conclusion 
to be drawn from the above description, 
and that is, that a high statp of health is a 
high moral state, which is the reverse of 
what would be generally supposed. Dr. 
Gregory says that a man in perfect health 
is not the sport of inordinate affections, 
and that he commands his passions, instead 
of obeying them, which means, that there 
is no physical excess to make the affections 
and passions unruly, but that, like tempe- 
rate gales, they waft him on his course, 



IT T n K HEALTH. I 



instead of driving him out of it. What is 
generally called high health, is a pampered 
state, the result of luxurious or excessive 
feeling, accompanied by hard or exciting 
exercise, and such a state is ever on the bor- 
ders of disease. It is rather the madness 
or intoxication of health, than health itself, 
and it has a tincture of many of the dan- 
gerous qualities of madness and intoxica= 
tion. 



180 ART OF A 11 A IN. SO 



CHAPTER VI. 

Of diet. — Health depends on diet, exer- 
cise, sleep, the state of the mind, and the 
state of the atmosphere, and on nothing 
else that I am aware of. I have been 
accustomed, for many years, to take the 
air before I eat, or even drink a drop of 
liquid, and at whatever time I rise, or what- 
ever the weather is. Sometimes I am 
only out for a few minutes ; but even a 
few draughts of the open air, when taken 
regularly as part of a system, produce a 
tonic effect ; and I attribute my constant 
health more to this practice, than to any 
other individual thing. Sometimes I walk 
or ride a considerable distance, or transact 



HIGH HEALTH. 187 



business for some hours ; and twice 1 have 
ridden thirty miles, and sat magisterially 
for a couple of hours, before breaking my 
fast, or feeling the slightest inconvenience. 
This strength arises from habit, and I 
observe my rule so religiously, that I 
should have the greatest repugnance to 
break it, from a thorough conviction of its 
efficacy. To those who are not in a situ- 
ation, or have not the resolution, to adopt 
my practice, I recommend as near an 
approach to it as possible. I recommend 
them before taking any thing, either solid 
or liquid, to perform their ablutions, and to 
dress completely, and to breathe for a time 
the freshest air they can find, either in 
doors or out. I also recommend them to 
engage themselves in some little employ- 
meat agreeable to the mind, so as not to 



188 ART OF ATTAINING 



breakfast till at least an hour and a half or 
two hours after rising. This enables the 
stomach to disburden itself and prepare for 
a fresh supply, and gives it a vigorous 
tone. I am aware that those who have 
weak digestions, either constitutionally or 
from bad habits, would suffer great incon- 
venience from following my rules all at 
once. I remember the faintness and pain- 
ful cravings I used to feel after rising, and 
like others I mistook weakness for appe- 
tite ; but appetite is a very different thing 
— a pleasurable sensation of keenness. 
Appetite supplied with food produces 
digestion — not so faintness or craving. 
The best means — and I always found it 
effectual — of removing the latter sensa- 
tions, is to take a little spirit of lavender 
drop] ed upon a lump of sugar. After 



HIGH HEALTH. 189 

that, a wholesome appetite may he waited 
for without inconvenience, and by degrees 
a healthy habit will be formed. It is to be 
observed, that nothing produces a faintness 
or craving of the stomach in the morning 
more surely than overloading it overnight, 
or any unpleasant affection of the mind, 
which stops digestion ; — and this shows 
the impropriety of adding more food as a 
palliative. With respect to the proper 
food for breakfast, that must depend much 
upon constitution and way of life, and like 
most other matters pertaining to health, 
can best be learnt by diligent observation. 
I think, as a general rule, abstinence from 
meat is advisable, reserving that species of 
food till the middle of the day, when the 
appetite of a healthy person is the strong- 
est. But at breakfast, as at all meals, it is 



190 A AT OF ATTAINING 



expedient to select what is agreeable to the 
palate ; being then, as always, specially 
careful not to let that circumstance lead to 
excess, even in the slightest degree, but, on 
the contrary, to observe the often laid 
down rule of leaving off with an appetite. 
Some people swallow their food in lumps, 
washing it down with large and frequent 
gulps of liquid — an affront to the stomach, 
which it is sure to resent with all the evils 
of indigestion, as it is impossible for the 
gastric juice to set, especially if the body 
is under the infl lence of motion. Even 
the motion of the easiest carriage on the 
smoothest road in such case tends to pro- 
duce fermentation, and fever, and drinking 
more, the usual remedy with the igno- 
rant, aggravates the inconvenience ; the 
only plan is to wait till the stomach is 



HIGH HEALTH. 191 



drained, and digestion can commence. 
Mastication is good in two ways ; first, to 
break the food into small pieces, upon 
which the gastric juice can sooner act ; 
and secondly, to mix it well with saliva, 
which is the great facilitator of digestion. 
This subject of saliva is of great impor- 
tance. When the salival glands are dry, 
it is impossible digestion can go on well. 
They are much affected by the mind ; and 
joy and grief will produce an instantaneous 
change, and whatever partakes of joy or 
grief acts in a corresponding degree. It 
is for this reason that I have remarked, in 
a former chapter, that it is expedient at 
meals to avoid all unpleasant, or even 
serious topics. Light, agreeable conversa- 
tion, with moderate mirth and laughter, 



192 ART OF ATTAIN! X 



promote digestion, and principally, I 1 . o 
lieve, by stimulating the salival glands. 
Hence the wholesomeness of food that 
is fancied to such a degree as to make the 
mouth water. Hence the benefit of talk- 
ing invalids into an appetite ; and fre- 
quently, the first symptoms of recovery, 
after a dangerous or even hopeless illness, 
manifest themselves by desiring some par- 
ticular food grateful to the palate ; — so 
persons, who have been given up and left 
to eat what they chose, have recovered 
from that very circumstance, when medi- 
cine and prescribed diet have failed. All 
this is from stimulus to the saliva-1 glands ; 
and from it I infer the expediency of 
allowing invalids, except in things mani- 
festly detrimental, to follow their fancy, 



HIGH HEALTH. ly> 



and, for the same reason, it is desirable to 
make their meals as cheerful as possible, 
by the presence of some one agreeable to 
them, or by any other means 



it* 



lf»^ ART OF ATTAINING 



CHAPTER VII. 

It is observable that animals, accustomed 
to feed in company, almost always fall off, 
if placed alone ; and with men in training 
to fight or run, it is of preat importance to 
have some one constantly present, to keep 
their spirits in a phasing state of excite- 
ment. I will here mention two instances 
of the effect of the want of mastication. 
One is in horses ; when any derangement 
in the teeth prevents them from chewing 
their food, the hide becomes hard and dry, 
more like the covering of a hair trunk than 
of a living being. The other instance is 
of a young lady, who was subject to 
dreadful fits, for which no remedy could 



HIGH HEALTH. 195 

be discovered, till a physician found out 
that her teeth were in such a state as 
effectually to prevent mastication. He 
adopted the strong measure of causing all 
her teeth to be drawn, and a fresh set put 
in, from which time she completely re- 
covered. A skilful dentist once told me 
that there were people so ignorant, espe- 
cially ladies, as to avoid mastication in 
order to save their teeth ; whereas the very 
act is beneficial to them, but still more the 
effect upon the digestion, upon which the 
soundness of the teeth depends. Instead 
then of swallowing the food whole and 
drowning it in liquid, which many think 
harmless provided it is not strong, the pro- 
per course is to masticate thoroughly, in a 
cheerful, composed humour, and to drink 
in sips, rather than in large draughts, so as 



190 ART OF ATTAINING 



to reduce what is taken into the stomach 
into a pulpy state, easily and speedily 
acted upon by the gastric jnice. If more 
liquid is required, it is better to take it in 
moderation an hour or two after eating, 
when it facilitates instead of impeding 
digestion ; and by this course exercise, at 
least of a gentle kind, is allowable, almost 
without restriction as to time, after meals. 
A good preventive against a habit of 
taking large draughts, is to use small cups 
and glasses till a contrary habit is formed ; 
and in general I find a wine glass a very 
good regulator in drinking malt liquor, and 
that it makes a smaller quantity suffice 
without the danger of forgetting the rule. 
With moderation in liquids it is much 
more easy to measure the appetite, and 
there is very little danger of taking too 



HIGH HEALTH. 197 



much solid food. When the appetite is 
weak, it is difficult to know where is the 
proper limit in supplying it, as there is no 
marked sensation. When it is vigorous, 
we eat heartily to a certain point, and then 
feel distinctly satisfied without any oppres- 
sion. This is a sort of first appetite, and 
the moment it is satisfied we ought to 
leave off. If we go on, the stomach seems 
to suffer a sudden extension, which enables 
us to eat, without inconvenience at the 
time, a great deal more than the body 
requires. Sometimes the extension is 
longer delayed, and only produced by the 
action of quantity, or some particular 
stimulant ; and accordingly we see people 
refuse to eat more in the first instance, 
and then go on with great willingness. 
But all this is pernicious, and produces 



TJ8 ART OF ATTAINING 

that superfluity in the system, which cre- 
ates a disposition to disease, and which, 
when carried far, renders disease danger- 
ous or fatal. How common it is to hear 
people remark that they have dined after 
the first dish, and then to see them go on for 
an hour, sacrificed to the absurdity of the 
repast ! Pressing to eat or drink, especially 
children, is a species of civility more 
honoured in the breach than in the observ- 
ance. The appetite ought to be in such a 
state of vigour, that, when satisfied, the 
solid food seems immediately to identify 
itself with the system ; and we ought to 
feel the liquid we take, instantly, to use 
FalstafTs phrase, " course from the in- 
wards to the parts extreme." Then we 
rise from meals refreshed, not encumbered. 
The signs of this desirable state, as exhi- 



HIGH HEALTH. 109 



bited in the countenance, are clearness and 
smoothness of complexion, thinness of 
lips and nose, no wrinkles under the eyes, 
the eyes bright, the mouth inclined to a 
smile, not drawn down with a sour look, 
as is the case with an overcharged diges- 
tion. There should be no fulness in the 
under lip, or uneasy sensation when 
pressed, which is a sure sign of derange- 
ment of the stomach. Most especially, 
the lower part of the nose should have a 
clear, healthy appearance, not thickened 
and full of dark dots and inflammatory 
impurities, as is so frequently to be 
observed. The difference between a pure 
state and that of irregular living is so 
great, as to produce in many persons an 
almost complete change of appearance in 
expression of countenance and personal 



200 ART OF ATTAINING 

attraction ; and attention to diet is of the 
first consequence to those who wish to 
improve or retain their looks, as well as to 
enjoy the perfect possession of their facul- 
ties. 

As a proof of the efficiency of diet, I 
will here mention what I experienced 
from attention to it on a particular occasion. 
In the middle of August, 1822, I travelled 
in a private carriage from Stutgard to Paris 
without stopping, except for an hour and a 
half each morning to breakfast, being 
on the road four days and three nights. 
The course my companion and myself 
pursued was this. We had a basket, whicli 
we kept constantly replenished with poul- 
try or game, and bread, and fruit. We ate 
sparingly whenever we felt inclined. We 
never drank when we ate, but took a little 



HIGH HEALTH. 201 

fruit instead. About a couple of hours 
after a meal, if we felt at all thirsty, we 
took a little water at the first post-house 
we came to. By this plan the motion of 
the carriage did not at all disturb digestion ; 
and notwithstanding the time of year 
we were entirely without fever or fever- 
ishness. We arrived at Paris perfectly 
fresh, and after taking a warm bath, supped 
in the Palais Royal. I afterward walked 
on the Boulevards till past midnight, and 
rose the next morning at six, in as com- 
posed a state as I ever was in my life. 

When we left England in the preceding 
November, my companion felt heated and 
much inconvenienced by travelling, even 
so late as ten at night, and we were obliged 
to remain three days at Lyons to give him 
time to recover. Between Stutcrard and 



202 ART OF ATTAINING 

Paris he enjoyed perfect composure, and 
on our arrival I observed that, notwithstand- 
ing he wore a pair of tight boots all the 
way, his ankles were not in the least 
affected with swelling ; whereas the 
courier, who did not understand passing 
through Champagne without tasting the 
wine, though he was comfortably seated 
behind the carriage, had his legs so much 
swelled, that he had some difficulty in get- 
ting up stairs. By the same course I 
believe I could travel indefinitely as to 
time, not only without inconvenience, but 
in high health. 

The precaution of drinking little, and 
particularly at a sufficient interval after 
eating, I take to be essential. I also think 
it very beneficial to have the opportunity 
of taking- food in moderation as soon as it 



HIGH HEALTH. 203 

is desired, by which the irritation of fast- 
ing too long is avoided, and the stomach is 
kept in perpetual good humour. The plan 
of eating and drinking beforehand, instead 
of carrying provisions in the carriage, is a 
very pernicious one, as the food becomes 
corrupted before it is wanted, and in the 
mean time produces the uncomforts of 
fermentation. 



204 ART OF ATTAINING 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Before I resume my remarks on diet, I 
have a few desultory observations to make. 
I have frequently had occasion to remark 
on the very different state of my feet, that 
sometimes they were not at all inconve- 
nienced by exercise, and at others liable to 
blister, or to a sensation of fulness or heat — 
that at one time I was annoyed by corns, 
at another perfectly free from them — that 
the same shoes would be sometimes easy, 
and at others much too tight — that at seme 
seasons I walked with perfect freedom and 
alacrity, at others with a difficulty amount- 
ing almost to lameness. All these varia- 
tions, I have long since ascertained, depend 



HIGH HEALTH. 205 



entirely upon the. state of the digestion, 
though I have heard my remarks to that 
effect turned into ridicule by the unthink- 
ing. I have now a pair of shoes rather 
smaller than usual, which have given me 
an opportunity of making my observations 
with great accuracy, and I find that by 
excess of diet, which I have purposely 
tried, they become so painful that I am 
obliged to take them off, and even that does 
not afford instant relief; while they are 
perfectly easy as long as I take only the 
requisite quantity of food, and at proper 
times, — for I have proved that so soon as 
I have fasted too long, uneasiness com- 
mences, not to the same extent as from 
excess, but still that there arises a certain 
degree of irritability upon which the pres- 
sure acts. Eating moderately, I find, 



206 ART OF ATTAINING 



affords instant relief, — that is, Content the 
stomach, and every other part will be con- 
tent. Moreover, provided the digestion is 
in a perfect state, any inconvenience from 
external causes, such as from the pressure 
of shoes actually too small, only lasts as 
long as the external cause acts. The mo- 
ment the cause is removed, the effect 
ceases ; but it is otherwise where the frame 
is out of order from deranged digestion. 
Then it takes some time for the part 
affected to recover its tone, or it may be 
that actual disease is the consequence, 
according to the force of the cause acting, 
or the tendency to disease. People die 
from a wound in the foot, or a cut finger, 
on account of their previously improper 
living, which has disposed their bodies to 
disease, and the wound or cut is the excit- 



HIGH HEALTH. 207 



ing cause ; but with those in perfect 
health, cure commences immediately after 
the injury, whether the injury be great or 
small, provided it is not in a vital part. 
Hence, in accidents, it is necessary with 
most people that they should submit, to the 
influence of diet and medicine before a cure 
can be effected ; and the same course is 
generally pursued before an operation, the 
only reason being that there are very few 
who live as they ought to do. The differ- 
ence in the state of health is so great, that 
the same blow, which would cause death 
in one man, would not even produce disco- 
loration in another. 

Once when I was riding at Rome, my 
horse suddenly ran up a steep bank, and 
threw me off behind with great force on 
my head upon a hard road. I felt a violent 



208 ART OF ATTAINING 



shake and a very unpleasant sensation for 
the moment, but experienced no bad con- 
sequences whatever. For some time pre- 
viously I had been living very carefully as 
to diet, and had taken a great deal of exer- 
cise, otherwise I am confident I should 
have suffered greatly, if not fatally ; as it 
was, I had no occasion even to take any 
precaution, and I felt nothing beyond the 
one shock. Had my vessels been over- 
charged, the effect must have been very 
different. 

But to return to tight shoes. Every 
body must have observed that they are 
more inconvenient at the end of the day 
than at the beginning, and most of all, after 
a full dinner, though they may not have 
been aware that over-fasting will produce 
something of the same effect, and that con- 



HIGH HEALTH. 209 



sequently the whole is referable to the 
state of the digestion ; for even the fatigue 
of the day does not act directly upon the 
limbs, but first upon the powers of the 
stomach. Restore them, and the sensa- 
tion of fatigue disappears. Labour and 
exercise, when the stomach is too full, or 
too empty, especially the former, cause 
great uneasiness ; and as soon as the sto- 
mach is relieved, the weariness is relieved 
also. Even that fatigue of the limbs, 
which seems only removable by rest or 
sleep, I believe equally depends upon the 
same cause, and that it is the stomach first 
which requires repose. Where it only 
requires food, as I have just remarked, the 
fatigue of the limbs will disappear without 
rest ; when it has received too much food, 
the fatigue will in like manner be relieved 
14 



210 ART OF ATTAINING 



as digestion proceeds. I recollect once, 
when walking a long distance before break- 
fast, I became at length so wearied, as only 
to be prevented by my companion from 
lying down in the road ; and when I had 
breakfasted, I was immediately fresher 
than when I started. After eating too 
heartily, I have experienced still more dis- 
tressing weariness, which has gradually 
disappeared, without any cessation of exer- 
cise, as digestion has proceeded. This is 
something the same as what is called 
second wind in boxing or running. It may 
be said, that when the feet are inconve- 
niently affected by exercise, they are re- 
lieved by placing them in a horizontal posi- 
tion ; but I apprehend that position is 
chiefly beneficial as affecting the connexion 
with the stomach, and that for any other 



HIGH HE A LTH. 211 



reason, it would be nearly useless — i;i 
short, it appears to me, that in the stomach 
is the spring, upon which entirely depends 
every other function and every other 
affection of the frame. 

With respect to corns, I have been treated 
with great ridicule for asserting that they 
are dependent upon the digestion ; but I 
have observed these things, and the ridi- 
culers have not. With me, when I am in 
the best health, they disappear, and only 
come, or inconvenience me, in proportion 
as I am careless. This I have ascertained 
over and over again. Of course they are 
made better or worse by different kinds of 
boots or shoes ; but no kind of boot or shoe 
will bring them, unless there is a tendency 
from improper living. Pressure would 
only affect as long as it lasted, but would 



21 I ART OF ATTAINING 



cause no formation, without some super- 
fluity to work upon. The reason why- 
corns shoot on the approach of rain is, that 
the change in the atmosphere more or less 
deranges the digestion, which causes a 
throbbing sensation. I have made these 
remarks because the state of the feet is of 
so much importance to our comfort and 
activity, and because I think they are 
applicable to the general management of 
ourselves, and may be useful to those who 
are subject to gout, rheumatism, cramp, 
and other diseases of the limbs. My prin- 
cipal aim is to furnish my readers, from 
my own observation and experience, with 
sufficient hints to induce them to think, 
and to notice what happens to themselves. 
If I am not always perfectly right in what 
I lay clown, I do not much mind that, pro- 



HIGH HEALTH. 213 



vided I enable others to get right in detect- 
ing my errors. I am sure I am not very 
far from the truth in my principal positions. 
I believe that species of health is the 
best, and certainly the most prized, which 
is the result of study and observation, and 
which is preserved by constant watchful- 
ness and resolution. Anxiety and quack- 
ery are destructive of health, but a reason- 
able attention is absolutely necessary. 
Those who constitutionally enjoy robust 
health, seldom know how sufficiently to 
value it; besides which, for want of disci- 
pline, they are not often so well as they 
think themselves. They frequently mis- 
take strength for health, though they are 
very different things — as different as St. 
Paul's clock from a chronometer. The 
weaker mechanism often goes the best. 



214 ART OF ATTAINING 



I think that those who are so constituted as 
to be well with care, have on the whole 
the most reason to be thankful, as being 
mosc likely to enjoy permanent well-t)eing 
of body and mind ; there is often a reck- 
lessness about constitutional health which 
is dangerous to both. 



HIGH HEALTH. 215 



CHAPTER IX. 

It requires a great deal of attention, and 
when living in the world, a great deal of 
resolution, to observe a proper diet ; and 
it is only a knowledge of its powerful 
effect both upon body and mind that is 
likely to induce sufficient care. When 
taking meals alone it is most easy to regu- 
late them ; but I believe meals were meant 
to be social, and that a little irregularity in 
agreeable company is better than the best 
observance in solitude. They who can 
unite the advantages of the two states are 
sure to enjoy the easiest digestion. In 
diet, as in most of our habits, we are apt 
to be content with too low a standard, 



216 ART OF ATTAINING 

instead of continually striving to approach 
the highest point of improvement ; and 
certainly no study can be more interesting in 
its progress or more important in its effects. 
Eating and drinking, reasonably used, are 
not only extremely pleasant in act, but in 
their consequences ; and a healthy appe- 
tite, duly ministered to, would be a source 
of constant enjoyment without alloy. As 
we must take nourishment, it appears to 
me wise to draw as much gratification from 
it as possible. Epicurism has rather an 
ill name, but I think very undeservedly, if 
it does not lead to gluttony, or occupy 
too great a share of attention. A dainty 
meal is something pleasant to look forward 
to, and the expectation of it gives a whole- 
some edge to the appetite, and makes busi- 
ness be despatched with alacrity. Let any 



HIGH HEALTH. 217 



of my readers call to mind their antici- 
pations in journeying towards 3. bespoken 
repast at a favourite inn, and that will put 
them in the way of appreciating the value 
in the journey through life of daily antici- 
pations of satisfactory cheer. To come to 
particulars : and first of breakfast. — As to 
this meal, much depends upon constitution 
and manner of life. Those who are 
weakly, and those who do not take much 
exercise, will do well to be rather abste- 
mious at breakfast, lest they anticipate di- 
gestion. Those who take exercise before 
breakfast and rest after, may safely give 
themselves more latitude than they who 
observe an opposite course. Moderation 
in all cases is the safest. 1 have often 
remarked that pt^nle who make it their 



218 ART OF ATTAINING 



boast that they always eat a hearty break- 
fast are rather of a full than a healthy 
habit ; and I should not think, as a rule, 
that the practice is favourable to long life. 
As digestion is liable to be deranged by 
the various occupations of the morning, it 
is expedient to be careful botli as to quality 
and quantity of food. To that end I hold 
it desirable to avoid much liquid, the fat 
or skin of meat, much crumb of untoasted 
bread, especially newly baked bread, all 
spongy substances, and whatever has a 
tendency to create thirst. Coffee, unless 
in a small quantity and diluted with milk, 
is rather heating : tea, before exercise, or 
in travelling, I think preferable. In my 
own case, I find it best to adhere to one 
moderate sized cup of liquid, whether tea, 



HIGH HEALTH. 219 



coffee, or cocoa. I prefer brown bread 
toasted to any other preparation of flour, 
and if any addition is wanted, I recom- 
mend only one on the same occasion, such 
as eggs, a little meat, bacon, broiled fish, 
water cresses, or fruit. Variety I think 
good, but not on the same day, especially 
as it makes it more difficult to measure the 
appetite. If any thing is required be- 
tween breakfast and dinner, something sim- 
ple and in moderation should by all means 
be taken, as disappointing the appetite, I be- 
lieve is much more prejudicial than is gene- 
rally supposed. Bread and fruit I find very 
grateful in the middle of the day, and if 
meat is taken, good table beer, 1 think, is 
the most refreshing beverage, or where 
that is not liked, wine and water. As to 



220 ART OF ATTAINING 



dinner, I am of opinion that the considera- 
tion of that important meal may most con- 
veniently be referred to my article on the 
art of dining. 



HIGH HEALTH. 221 



CHAPTER X. 

I now proceed to the few remaining 
topics I mean to touch upon. The first 1 
shall take is exercise. Upon this depends 
vigour of body, and if the mind can be 
vigorous without, it can be much more so 
with it. The efficacy of exercise depends 
upon the time, the quantity, and the manner. 
The most invigorating time, I should say 
from experience, is decidedly that during 
the freshness of the morning air, and be- 
fore breakfast ; but this will not do for 
invalids, or persons of very weak consti- 
tutions, though many underrate their own 
powers, and think that that is weakness 
wixich is only the effect of habit. They 



222 ART OF ATTAINING 

should try their strength by degrees taking 
moderate doses of exercise at first, and after 
a small quantity of food, or, what I have 
before recommended, a few drops of the 
spirit of lavender on a lump of sugar, the 
efficacy of which, in preventing faintness 
or a distressing craving, is great. A few 
drops of lavender, and a short walk or 
gentle ride on a fine morning, will give a 
real appetite to beginners, which may 
tempt them to persevere till they can per- 
form with ease and pleasure what would 
have distressed them exceedingly, or been 
wholly impracticable in the first instance. 
I always observe, that being well braced 
by morning 1 exercise produces an effect 
that lasts the whole day, and it gives a 
bloom to the countenance, and causes a 
general glow, which exercise at no other 



II I G H II E / L T II. 22S 



time can. I have heretofore spoken at 
large of taking exercise with reference to 
meals, both before and after. As to the 
other parts of the day besides morning, 
the time most fit for exercise must depend 
greatly upon the season. In the depth of 
winter it is good to catch as much sun as 
possible, and in the heat of summer to pur- 
sue the opposite course. The coldest parts 
of the day, as a rule, are just before sunrise 
and sunset, especially the former, and I 
believe they are the most unwholesome to 
take exercise in. The French, who ob- 
serve rules respecting health more strictly 
than we do, are particularly cautious about 
sunset, on account of the vapour which 
usually rises at that time, and which they 
call le serein. The morning air just be- 
fore sunrise is often, even in warm weather, 



224 ART OF ATTAINING 



dreadfully chilly and raw, but there is no 
great danger of people in general exposing 
themselves to it. It is different at sunset, 
and it is then well to be on one's guard, 
especially if there is any feeling of damp, 
and particular care should be taken not to 
rest after exercise, or do any thing to 
check perspiration at that time, from which 
the most dangerous, and often fatal, mala- 
dies originate. Though I think the fresh 
morning air is the most invigorating in its 
effects, there is no period when I have 
felt actually so much alacrity and energy, 
as when taking exercise, either on foot or 
horseback, at the dead of night, provided 
the night is clear and dry, and most espe- 
cially during a fine frost. The body and 
mind seem to me to be more in unison 
under such circumstances than at any other 



21 I H HE A L Til. 225 

time ; and I suppose from such effects tliat 
exercise must then be wholesome, but I 
think it should be after a generous meai, 
taken some time before. 1 have mentioned 
this effect of the night air in a former 
chapter, when speaking of digestion. 
Persons of different constitutions must 
judge for themselves at what periods of 
the day exercise best suits them, but taking 
care, I must repeat, not to confound the 
nature of the constitution with the force of 
habit. The best tests that they are right, 
will be keenness of appetite, lightness of 
digestion, and consequent buoyaicy of 
spirits. 



15 



226 ART OF ATTAINING 



CHAPTER XL 

Having treated in my last chapter of 
the times for taking exercise, I proceed to 
the consideration of the proper quantity. 
The quantity of exercise desirable depends 
upon constitution, time of life, occupation, 
season, and kind and degree. I am unable 
to say with precision what kinds of con- 
stitution require the most exercise. Per- 
sons in health, of compact or light frame, 
seem the best adapted to take a great deal 
with benefit to themselves. Weakly and 
heavy people are generally distressed by 
much exertion ; but then it is difficult to 
distinguish what is the effect of habit, and 
what of natural constitution. Those who 



HIGH HEALTH. 227 



appear to be weak, often make themselves 
strong by a judicious course of manage- 
ment, and the heavy frequently improve 
astonishingly in activity by good training. 
One thing may be taken as certain, anil 
that is, that it is wise to go on by degrees, 
and to increase the quantity of exercise as 
it is found to be beneficial ; the best tests of 
which are keenness of appetite and sound- 
ness of sleep. Over exercise ought al- 
ways to be avoided ; but that often depends 
more upon the manner than the quantity. 
The same quantity may distress, or benefit, 
as it is taken judiciously or the contrary. 
Condition also makes an immense differ- 
ence in the same person. I remember 
when I entered Switzerland after thr full 
living of Germany, I was as diflsrent 
from what I was when I left it, as lead 



228 ART OF ATTAINING 



from feathers. In the first case the ascent 
of an ordinary hill distressed me, and at last 
I enjoyed a buoyancy which seemed quite 
insensible tc fatigue. Females appear to 
require a much less quantity of exercise 
than men ; and it ought to be gentle and 
agreeable, instead of violent or long con- 
tinued. With them, also, much depends 
upon circumstances ; and, in Switzerland, 
delicate women can take as much ex- 
ercise without inconvenience, as would 
distress the strongest of the sex in less 
invigorating countries. With respect to 
time of life, the most vigorous periods of 
course demand the most exercise ; but habil 
has always a great effect, and it is expe- 
dient not to relax from indolence instead 
of inability. As decay comes on, exercise 
should become moderate, and of short co •- 



HIGH HEALTH. 229 



tinuance at a time, and should be taken 
during the most genial periods of the day. 
Active occupations either altogether super- 
sede, or diminish the necessity of exer- 
cise, for exercise' sake ; but sedentary or 
confined employments require a regular 
course, in order to ensure any thing like 
permanent good health ; and the better the 
air, the more efTVjacious will be the exer- 
cise. As to seasons, in hot weather the 
least exercise seems necessary, and that of 
a gentle kind ; in a moderate temperature, 
the most may be taken with advantage ; 
and when it is cold exercise should be 
brisk, and then, from its bracing quality, a 
little goes a great way. Quantity of exer- 
cise depends very greatly upon kind and 
degree. That which moderately increases 
the circulation of the blood, so as to cause 



230 ART OF ATTAINING 



a glow on this side perspiration, the soon- 
est suffices. Walking or riding at a brisk 
pace in a bracing air, or not over-strained 
exertion in some game, which agreeably 
occupies the mind, will soon produce a 
sufficient effect. Where the mind is not 
engaged, much more exercise is required 
than where it is ; and a small quantity of 
violent exercise is not so beneficial as a 
greater quantity of moderate. On the 
other hand, a greater quantity of sluggish 
exertion does not possess the efficacy of a 
smaller quantity of an animating kind. Less 
of varied exertion, which brings the differ- 
ent muscles into play, will suffice, than of 
exertion all of the same kind ; as walking 
over hill and dale promotes circulation more 
than walking over a fiat surface, and differ- 
ent paces in riding are better than a uni- 



HIGH HEALTH. 231 

form one. Unless exercise produces a 
glow, it falls short of its proper effect, and 
it will do this in the shortest time, when it 
is moderate, varied, and pleasing, and in 
an invigorating atmosphere. Violent exer- 
cise produces temporary strength, but with 
a wear and tear of the constitution, and it 
often induces a tendency to disease, besides 
the danger of bodily injury from many 
causes. 

As to manner of exercising, there is 
every degree from the easiest carriage to 
the roughest horse. Carriage exercise is 
of a very inferior kind in an invigorating 
point of view, and to the robust is scarcely 
exercise at all ; but to others it is very bene- 
ficial, though perhaps rather in the way of 
taking air than taking exercise, and it has 
the effect of diverting the mind. To this 



232 ART OF ATTAINING 

end it is most efficacious amidst new 
scenes. The most effective mode of all 
of taking exercise is, I believe, on horse- 
back, and if it will not put those who can 
bear it into high health, I think nothing 
else will. For effect on the health and 
spirits I know nothing like a brisk ride on 
a good horse, through a pleasant country, 
with an agreeable companion, on a beauti- 
ful day. The exercise is thoroughly 
efficient, without either labour or fatigue, 
the mind is entirely in unison with the 
body, and the constant current of pure air 
produces the most vigorous tone. I have 
frequently heard of journeys on horseback 
restoring health, when every thing else 
has failed. A solitary ride on an unwilling 
horse, over well known ground, for the 
mere sake of the ride, nroduces, compara- 



HIGH HEALTH. 233 



tively speaking, very little benefit ; and 
care should be taken to make this kind of 
exercise, as well as every other, as attrac- 
tive as possible. Exercise on foot has 
many advantages. It is the most inde- 
pendent mode, is within every body's 
reach, is the least trouble, and can be 
taken when other modes are not practica- 
ble, and is very efficacious. The feeling 
of independence is by no means the least 
of its advantages, and those who have the 
free use of their limbs, have no occasion 
to envy their superiors in wealth their 
command of carriages and horses, about 
which there are constant drawbacks. Al- 
though I delight in a horse at times, yet I 
often think that on the whole the balance 
is against him on tie score of freedom and 
independence. I have made many jour- 



234 ART OF ATTAINING 



neys or foot, and I do not know that, 
with good management, there is any mode 
of travelling which is capable of so much 
enjoyment with so little alloy. Horse 
exercise on particular occasions, is cer- 
tainly the most animating and delightful, 
but at other times it is attended with greater 
inconveniences. Exercise on foot derives 
much of its efficacy from being made 
attractive. A walk for a walk's sake is 
only half beneficial, and, if possible, there 
should be some object in view, something 
to engage and satisfy the mind. Exercise 
in games, dancing, fencing, and such ac- 
complishments, derive a great deal of their 
benefit from the pleasure taken in them ; 
and in contested games, care should be 
taken to avoid anxiety and over-ardent 
exertion. There 's a middle state of the 



HIGH HEALTH. 235 



mind between indifference and too much 
eagerness, which is the most favourable to 
health ; as there is a middle circulation of 
the blood between languor and a state of 
fever. In taking exercise, this rule should 
always be observed, to begin and end 
gently. Beginning violently hurries the 
circulation, and ending violently is very 
apt to induce colds and fever, and besides, 
causes a stiffness in the joints and muscles. 
The blood should have time gradually to 
resume its ordinary current, or it has a ten- 
dency to settle in the small vessels, which 
is a cause of great inconvenience. Cool- 
ing gradually will prevent this. 

The next thing I have to consider is 
sleep, upon the quantity and quality of 
which health mainly depends. I believe 
the general custom is to take too much 



230 ART OF ATTAINING 



sleep. What quantity is really necessary 
must depend upon various constitutions, 
and various circumstances in the same con- 
stitution ; but the rule is, as I think, that 
we should have one sound sleep, from 
which we should wake perfectly refreshed, 
without any heavy or drowsy sensation or 
any wish to fall asleep again. The length 
of this sleep will depend upon way of liv- 
ing, quantity of exertion, mental or bodily, 
state of the atmosphere, and other causes ; 
but still the one sound sleep is the true 
measure. Falling short of this, or exceed 
ing it, are both prejudicial. The first pro- 
duces fever, the second languor. Our 
energy depends in a very great degree 
upon taking no more than the due quantity 
of sleep. In order to ensure its quality, 
we should lie down free from care, and 



HIGH HEALTH. 237 

have no anxiety about waking, which is 
destructive of perfect soundness. Our 
waking should be entirely voluntary, the 
result, of the complete restoration of the 
powers. The quality of sleep depends 
upon attention to diet, exercise, and state 
of the mind, and in a great measure upon 
going to bed in a properly prepared state, 
neither feverish nor chilly, neither hungry 
nor overloaded, but in an agreeable compo- 
sure and state of satisfaction of both body 
and mind. It is better to retire to rest 
from society than from solitude, and from 
cheerful relaxation than from immediate 
labour and study. The practice, which 
some people have, of sitting their fire out, 
and going to bed starved, with their mind 
fatigued with study, is the reverse of what 
is expedient ; and sleep under such cir- 



238 ART OF ATTAINING 



cumstances is of a very unsatisfactory 
nature. It is rather productive of what 
Milton calls unrest than rest. Sleep, to 
enjoy it perfectly, requires observation and 
attention, and all who wish for high 
health, will do well to ket:p the subject in 
their minds, because upon themselves 
chiefly depends the attainment of this, one 
of the greatest blessings of life. 



HIGH HEALTH. *23fl 



CHAPTER XII. 

State of the mind. — Attention to 
health has a powerful influence on the 
state of the mind, and the state of the mind 
has a powerful influence on health. There 
is one state of the mind which depends upon 
the health, and another which depends 
partly upon external circumstances. This 
latter state, though it cannot be altogether 
regulated by attention to health, may be ma- 
terially affected by it, and depression may 
be diminished and buoyancy increased in a 
very considerable degree. Where there is 
nothing particularly to affect the mind in 
the way of good fortune or of bad, of annoy- 
ance or of pleasure, its state depends 



240 ART OF ATTAINING 

almost, if not entirely, upon the state of 
the health, and the same individual will be 
happy or miserable in the proportion that 
the health is regulated. I have known 
cases of people, who laboured under depres- 
sion to a most distressing degree, restored 
to high spirits merely by a long journey 
on horseback ; and universally, exertion 
which is productive of interest to the mind, 
where there is no external cause of annoy- 
ance, raises the spirits to a state of positive 
enjoyment, which may be still further 
increased by attention to temperance, clean- 
liness, and moderation in sleep. Where 
the state of the mind depends entirely upon 
attention to health, I can only refer to what 
I have recommended in the different chap- 
ters I have already given on the subject of 
health. Where it depends upon the infiu- 



HIGH HEALTH. 241 



ence of external circumstances, I shall also 
request attention to the tone which per- 
vades all that I have written with reference 
to habits of living and modes of thinking ; 
because I have throughout endeavoured to 
enforce doctrines founded on reasonable- 
ness and the spirit of contentment. It is 
good not to seek after those things, the 
disappointment of missing which is greater 
than the pleasure of attaining: and such 
is the case with all the vanities of the 
•world. The irksomeness of pursuing, and 
the emptiness of enjoyment, I think, are 
generally about equal ; while the mortifica- 
tion of failure is ever most bitter with 
respect to things in themselves worthless 
or troublesome. The greatest of all arts 
to prevent unhappiness is not to place too 
much value on the opinion of others. Here 
16 



2i'l ART OF ATTAINING 



is the grand source of all anxiety, the 
thinking what others will think ; and that 
is the feeling which is most unfavourable 
to real health. It suspends and deranges 
* ho functions to a most prejudicial extent, 
even about trifles, when serious calamity, 
which does not touch the pride, is met with 
calmness and resignation. Pride is mixed 
up with almost all human feeling, and in 
proportion as reason and religion can clear it 
away, the feelings will be sound and healthy, 
and will contribute to the soundness and 
health of the body. To desire nothing but 
what is worth attaining, to proportion our 
wants to our means of satisfying them 
without too much sacrifice, to value what 
we gain or lose as it affects ourselves only, 
and not as weighed in the balance of others, 
is the state of mind which will most con- 



HIGH HEALTH. 213 



duce to our health. I have heretofore 
enlarged in several places upon the great, 
and often sudden effects, the state of the 
mind has upon that of the body, both to 
good and ill ; and it is only by constant 
mental discipline, and by observation, that 
that tone can be acquired, which gives due 
smoothness, and regularity, and activity, to 
physical action. 

The state of the atmosphere has influ- 
ence upon the health in various degrees. 
No one is entirely independent of such 
influence ; but the more we attend to the 
due regulation of our health, the less we 
feel outward changes. Persons who have 
contracted habits of indolence and indul- 
gence, are the most subject to be affected 
by atmospheric influences, % and they are 
often wretched martyrs to them. With 



244 ART OF ATTAINING 



vessels overcharged and nerves unbraced, 
the slightest change causes the most dis- 
tressing sensations. I believe that mode- 
ration in liquids is one of the best preserva- 
tives against such evils — I mean liquids of 
all kinds, for some people think that it is 
only the strength of liquids that is prejudi- 
cial, whereas quantity is to be guarded 
against as well as quality, by those who 
wish to enjoy good health. Water, tea, 
and all sorts of slops, ought to. be used 
with great moderation, or it is in vain to 
hope for a vigorous tone. A dry, cool 
atmosphere seems to be the most favour- 
able to a high state of health, though it 
may not best suit many morbid constitu- 
tions, and persons labouring under particu- 
lar diseases. Temperance and activity will 
render the constitution almost proof against 



HIGH HEALTH. 215 



any baneful influence of the atmosphere, 
but attention to diet and dress are also 
advisable, as well as caution as to exposure 
to the outward air. Besides the ordinary- 
changes in the atmosphere, a great deal 
depends upon situation, and therefore those 
who are able, do well to avail themselves 
of choosing those situations, which either 
for temporary reasons, or permanently, 
agree with them best. A good choice of 
situation will often produce health, or con- 
tinue it, more effectually than any thing 
else. Discrimination is necessary in this : 
for those situations which are the most 
favourable to a high state of health, may 
be dangerous to those who are only making 
their approaches to it. An invalid or 
person of delicate constitution, by begin- 
ning in the valley, may perhaps end a 



hardy mountaineer. The influence of the 
atmosphere is a fit subject for constant 
observation, and can only be well under- 
stood by that process ; I mean reasonable 
observation, and not that of hypochondri- 
acal and nervous people. 

The last subject I have to touch upon in 
respect to health, is cleanliness. It is of 
great importance, and requires much atten- 
tion and considerable labour in the advance- 
ment towards health, especially in particu- 
lar kinds of morbid affections : but in an 
actual state of high health, it is not only 
easy of attainment, but it is hardly possible 
to be avoided. There is an activity, which 
prevents impurity from within, and repels 
it from without. There are all degrees, 
from a sluggish, impure perspiration to an 
imperceptible radiation. In the first case, 



HIGH HEALTH. 247 



continual efforts of cleanliness can still not 
produce it in a high degree ; and in the 
second, it is there without any effort at all. 
People who are laboriously clean, are 
never very clean; that is, they are not 
pure. Purity is a sort of self-acting clean- 
liness ; it arises from attention to system, 
and cleanliness is a mere outward opera- 
tion. There are many people, who think 
themselves very clean, who are only 
whitened sepulchres ; and, however they 
labour, will never succeed, unless by 
attention to something more than soap and 
water. What I have said in a former 
chapter on an extreme state of clean- 
liness, though difficult to be compre- 
hended, or believed by those who have not 
put themselves into a high state of health, 
is yet literally true. Cleanliness contri- 



248 ART OF ATTAINING 

bntes to health, and health contributes to 
cleanliness ; and I cannot too strongly 
recommend attention to it, at the same time 
repeating that the outward operation alone, 
without attention to the system, will prove 
very inefficient. 

I have now come to a conclusion of my 
chapters on the art of attaining high health. 
I could have said a great deal more on 
many of the heads, and may hereafter 
touch upon some of them occasionally ; 
but as my principal aim has been to put 
my readers in the right way, and to set 
them to think for themselves, I have 
thought it better not to enter more into 
detail. Where I am right, I hope they 
will follow me, to their own advantage ; 
and where I am wrong, it may perhaps 
ead some of them to discover what is 



HIGH HEALTH. 241) 

right, for the sake of detecting my errors. 
If the truth is only discovered between us, 
I do not much care by which side 



fkUxts on Suppers. 



251 



HINTS ON SUPPERS. 



CHAPTER I. 



I do not know how I came to dismiss 
the subject of the art of dining without 
saying a few words in favour of that 
agreeeable, but now neglected meal, sup- 
per. The two repasts used to hold divided 
empire, but dinners have in later years 
obtained all but an exclusive monopoly, to 
the decay, I am afraid, of wit, and bril- 
liancy, and ease. Supper has been in all 
times the meal peculiarly consecrated to 
mental enjoyment, and it is not possible 
that any other meal should be so well 

253 



254 HINTS ON SUITERS. 



adapted to that object. Dinner may be 
considered the nnal of the body, and sup- 
per that of the mind. The first has for its 
proper object the maintenance or restora- 
tion of the corporeal powers • the second 
is intended in the hours of relaxation from 
the cares and business of the day, to light 
up and invigorate the mind. It comes 
after every thing else is over, and all dis- 
traction and interruption have ceased, as a 
pleasing prelude and preparation for the 
hour of rest, and has a tendency to fill the 
mind with agreeable images as the last 
impressions of the day. Compared with 
dinner, it is in its nature light, and free 
from state. Dinner is a business ; supper 
an amusement. It is inexpensive, and 
free from trouble. The attempt to unite 
the two meals in one, in the manner now 



HINTS ON SUPPERS. 255 

pra?tised, is a miserable failure, unfavour- 
able to health and to the play of the mind. 
Nothing places sociability on so good a 
footing, and so much within the reach of 
all, as the custom of supping. There is 
an objection made to suppers, that they 
are unwholesome. Nothing, I think, can 
be more unfounded; indeed, I believe 
them, if properly used, to be most 
wholesome, and quite in accordance with 
the dictates of nature. Undoubtedly, large 
suppers are unwholesome after large din- 
ners ; but not so, light suppers after mode- 
rate dinners. I think, if I were to choose, 
my ordinary course of living would be a 
simple, well-conceived dinner, instead of 
the luncheon now in vogue ; then tea, 
with that excellent adjunct, scarcely ever 
enjoyed in these days, buttered toast, about 



256 HINTS ON SUPPERS. 

the present dinner hour, and a savoury 
little supper about half past nine or ten 
o'clock, with a bowl of negus, or some 
other grateful diluted potation after. I am 
of opinion there is no system so favourable 
to vigorous and joyous health as the mode- 
rate indulgence of a moderate appetite 
about a couple of hours before retiring to 
rest, — those hours filled up with the enjoy- 
ment of agreeable society. In the colder 
months I have great faith in finishing the 
day with a warm and nourishing potation. 
It is the best preparation for one's daily 
end, sleep, or, as Shakspeare calls it, " the 
death of each day's life ;" and those with 
whom it does not agree, may be sure it is 
not the drink's fault, but their own, in not 
having pursued the proper course previ- 
ous!}-. A good drink over a cheerful fire, 



HINTS ON SUPPERS. '257 



with a cheerful friend or two, is a good 
finish, much better than the unsatisfactory 
ending of a modern dinner party. Jlere I 
must mention that, in order to have good 
negus, it is necessary to use good wine, 
and not, as some people seem to think, 
any sort of stuff, in any condition. Port 
negus is delicious, if it is made thus : — 
Pour boiling water upon a sufficient quan- 
tity of sugar ; stir it well ; then pour some 
excellent port, not what has been opened 
two or three days, into the water, the wine 
having been heated in a saucepan. Stir 
the wine and water well together as the 
wine is poured in, and add a little grated 
nutmeg. A slice of lemon put jn with 
the sugar, and a little of the yellow rind 
scraped with it, make the negus perfect ; 
but it is very good without, though then, 
17 



258 HINTS ON SUPPERS. 

properly speaking, it should be called wine 
and water. Supper is an excellent time to 
enjoy game, and all meats of a delicate 
nature, and many other little things, which 
are never introduced at dinners. I am far 
from wishing to explode dinners as a 
social meal, but I object to their enjoying 
a monopoly, and the adoption of the two 
meals on different occasions would furnish 
opportunities for an agreeable variety. 
One frequently hears people object to din- 
ing early, on the ground that they feel them 
selves disinclined to do any thing after din- 
ner ; but this is a false mode of reasoning. 
After a late dinner there is a disinclination 
to action, especially if it is an overloaded 
repast ; but the reason of this is, that the 
powers have become exhausted, which is 
a solid argument against late dining with 



HINTS ON SUPPERS. 259 



reference to health and spirits. But a 
moderate dinner in the middle of the day, 
when the digestive powers are the strong- 
est, instead of unfitting for action, has the 
very contrary effect, and a person rises 
from table refreshed, and more actively 
inclined than hnfare No one, whose 
digestion is in good order, complains of 
the incapacitating effects of luncheon, 
which is in reality a dinner without its 
pleasures. Luncheon may be said to be 
a joyless dinner, and dinner a cumbrous 
supper, and between the two, they utterly 
exclude that refreshing little meal, tea. 
We live in a strange state of perversion, 
from which many emancipate themselves 
as much as they can, when the eye of the 
world is not upon them ; and if every body 
dared to do as every body would like, 



200 HINTS ON SUPPERS 



strange changes would soon appear. If 
the state prisons were thrown open, an-! 
the fetters of fashion cast off, \\ hat inward 
rejoicing there would be among rich and 
poor, male and female ! What struggles, 
what pangs, what restraints would be 
avoided ! What enjoyments, what plea- 
sures would present themselves, and what 
elasticity would be given to the different 
bents of the human mind ? If reason and 
virtue alone dictated the rules of life, how 
much more of real freedom wouid be en- 
joyed than under the present worn-out 
dynasty of fashion i 



HINTS ON SUPPERS. 261 



CHAPTER II. 

In my last chapter, I expressed an in- 
clination to the adoption, on ordinary occa- 
sions, of a simple, substantial dinner in the 
middle of the day, then to tea about the 
present hour of dinner, and lastly, to a 
ight supper about a couple of hours before 
retiring to rest ; but I omitted to enlarge, 
as much as I think the subject deserves, 
upon the advantages of such a course to 
men who are engaged in active occupation 
away from their homes. To fast from 
breakfast to a late dinner is unquestionably 
prejudicial to the great majority of consti- 
tutions, though habit may prevent present 



262 HINTS ON SUPPERS. 

sensations of inconvenience. Luncheon 
is an unsatisfactory, unsettled meal as to 
society, and awkward as to the appetite, 
which being about that time in the most 
vigorous state, it is difficult and disappoint- 
ing to restrain it, and inconvenient, with 
reference to dinner, to satisfy it. Now a 
simple dinner at or near the place of busi- 
ness, and in the way of society made sub- 
servient to business, is free from these dis- 
advantages. If a meal is taken when the 
appetite is at the most healthy point of 
keenness, and no more is eaten than 
nature just requires, business mav be 
resumed pleasantly, and without deranging 
the digestive powers. Then, instead of 
hurrying over business, dread of interrup- 
tion, and anxiety to reach, home, there is 



HINTS ON SUPPERS. 2 33 

a feeling of satisfaction and a composure 
which ought always to be aimed at. He 
who keeps dinner waiting, or is afraid of 
doing so, is in a constant state of annoy- 
ance ; and those about him live in almost 
daily uncertainty, productive of any thing 
but real comfort. A man on his arrival at 
home hastens over his toilette, sits down 
to table hurried and exhausted, oveiloads 
his appetite, and soon feels heavy, or sinks 
to sleep, neither enjoying, nor adding to 
the enjoyment of society, and destroying 
the invigorating soundness of his nights 
rest. But tea is a meal that can be pre- 
pared quickly and at any time ; it causes 
.10 anxiety or hurry : there is litiie danger 
of excess ; and, instead ol oppressing, it 
is the very best restorative of the strength 



264 HINTS ON SUPPERS. 



and spirits. After tea, the most exhausted 
become lively and clear for the remainder 
of the evening ; the supper hour is subject 
to no uncertainty, and an inclination to 
sleep is induced at the desirable period, 
and not before. To those who return into 
the country, especially in the summer time, 
this system, I apprehend, would be found 
to possess many advantages ; and, in 
general, I think it would conduce much to 
improve domestic society. I do not hold 
it out as a fixed rule to supersede late, 
dinners, which on many occasions are the 
most convenient meals for social inter- 
course, but as a practice which might be 
frequently, or even ordinarily, adopted 
with advantage. To those who have al- 
ways been accustomed to look upon a 



HINTS ON SUPPERS. 205 

good dinner as the conclusion of their 
day's labours, a ly other system appears 
very meagre and unsatisfactory ; but habit 
would soon reconcile persons of sense to 
a change, provided it is a change in which 
there is really a balance of advantages. 
On the score of alacrity and vigour of 
body and mind, I have little doubt but that 
the system of early dinners and light sup- 
pers is much preferable to the system now 
in force ; but then it must be pursued with 
due attention to the rules of temperance, 
otherwise the evils of excess would be 
greater than they are now. The advan- 
tages of the system in respect to facility 
and clearness in mental application, I 
know from experience to be great. An 
early dinner prevents exhaustion, without 



2o6 hints on suppers, 



producing oppression. Tea, as a substan- 
tial meal, is a most powerful and agreeable 
auxiliary to the labour of the mind, and 
supper the most grateful restorative, when 
the labour is over. On the whole, 1 think, 
for ordinary occasions, early dining is much 
more favourable to smoothness of life than 
late 



When on the subject of salads, in a for- 
mer chapter, 1 forgot to protest against the 
vulgar practice 01 chopping lettuce small, 
more like food for turkeys than human 
beings. One of the best, and most elegant 
salads at this season of the year is com- 
posed of well blanched endive, red beet- 
root, and fine celery, and it should be 



H 1 N T S UN S V P P K R S. 2P>7 



dressed in the manner I have already men- 
tioned. Salad is a luxury, in general, very 
inadequately enjoyed at great dinners ; 
first, because it is seldom dressed with 
much skill, and secondly, because it is not 
sufficiently within reach. 



THE END 



gl ncctlolc§ _ 



269 



ANECDOTES OF DIXIXG, 

CONNECTED "WITH DISTINGUISHED INDIVIDUALS. 



Alligator Sauce.— Buckland, the dis- 
tinguished geologist, one clay, after dis- 
secting a Mississippi alligator, gave a 
dinner, and asked a good many of the 
most distinguished of his class to dine 
with him. His house and establishment 
were in good style and taste. The guests 
congregated. The dinner table looked 
splendid, with glass, china and plate, 
and the meal commenced with excellent 
soup. " How do you like the soup V 7 
asked the Doctor, addressing a famous 
gourmand of the day. " Very well, in- 
deed," answered the other; " turtle, is it 



ANECDOTES. 



not? I only ask because I do not find 
any green fat." The Doctor shook his 
head. "I think it has somewhat of a 
musky taste," says another — "not un- 
pleasant, but peculiar." " All alligators 
have," replied Buckland; "the cayman 
peculiarly so — the fellow I dissected this 
morning, and which you have just been 
eating." There was a general rout of 
guests ; every one turned pale. Half a 
dozen started up from the table; two or 
three ran out of the room, and only those 
who had strong stomachs remained to 
the close of an excellent entertainment. 
"See what imagination is," said Buck- 
land. " If I had told them it was turtle, 
or terrapin, or bird's nest soup, salt 
water amphibia or fresh, or the 
gluten of a fish from the maw of a sea 



ANECDOTES. 273 



bird, they would have pronounced it ex- 
cellent, and their digestion would have 
been none the worse. Such is preju- 
dice." " But was it really an alligator ?" 
asked a lady. " As good a calfs head 
as ever wore a coronet," answered 
Buckland. 

Sidney Smith at Dinner. — What mis- 
eries human beings inflict on each 
other under the name of pleasure! We 
went to dine last. Tuesday with Mr. 

, a neighboring clergyman, a 

haunch of venison being the stimulus 
of the invitation. We set out at five 
o'clock, drove in a broiling sun for three 
miles on dusty roads in our best 
gowns, found squire and parson assem- 
bled in a small, hot room, the whole 
house redolent of frvinsr. Talked, as is 



274: ANECDOTES. 



our wont, of roads, weather and tur- 
nips ; that done, began to grow hun- 
gry, then serious, then impatient. At 
last a stripling, evidently got up for the 
occasion, opened the door and beckoned 
the host out cf the room. After some 
moments of awful suspense he returned, 
saving, "The woman assisting in the 
kitchen had mistaken the soup for dirty 
water, and had thrown it out, so we 
must do without it." So we all agreed 
it was perhaps as well we should, under 
the circumstances. At last, to our joy, 
dinner was announced ; but lo! as we 
entered the dining room, what a gale 
met our nose! The venison was high, 
the venison was uneatable, and was 
obliged to follow the soup with all 
speed! Dinner proceeded, but our spir- 



A X E C D T E S . 



its flagged under these accumulated 
misfortunes ; then came an ominous 
pause between the first and second 
courses ; we looked at each other — what 
new disaster awaited us? The pause 
became fearful. At length the door 
burst open, and the " stripling" rushed 
in, calling out, "Please, sir, has Betty 
any right to leather I ?" We roared 
with laughter. All took part against 
Betty; obtained the second course with 
some difficulty; bored each other the 
usual time; ordered our carriages, ex- 
pecting our post boys to be drunk, and 
were grateful to Providence for not per- 
mitting them to deposit us in a wet ditch. 
So much for dinners in the country. 

Except the Mayor. — Foote, travelling 
in the West of England, dined one (lav 



27G ANECDOTES, 



at an inn. When the cloth was removed 
the landlord asked him how he liked his 
fare. " I have dined as well as any man 
in England," said Foote. " Except Mr. 
Mayor," cried the landlord. " I do not 
except anybody whatever," said he. 
"But you must," bawled the host. "I 
won't." "You must." At length the 
strife ended by the landlord (who was a 
petty magistrate) taking Foote before 
the Mayor, who observed it had been 
customary in that town for a great num- 
ber of years to always except the Mayor, 
and accordingly fined him a shilling for 
not conforming to this ancient custom. 
Upon this decision Foote paid the shil- 
ling, at the same time observing that he 
thought the landlord the greatest fool 
in Christendom — except Mr. Mayor. 



ANECDOTES. 277 



Goose Pie. — Goose pie is, probably, to 
be reckoned among- the things that have 
bad their day; but, formerly, goose pie 
was esteemed a standard dish at Christ- 
mas, and Yule-tide was not considered 
to hare been correctly observed unless a 
great goose pic was laid upon the table. 
Some people would seem to have 
thought too much about it ; for we are 
told by Bishop Warburton of a maniacal 
person who imagined himself to be 
transformed into a goose pie. He was 
no less silly than the goose itself is fre- 
quently accounted to be. When the 
Duke of Buckingham was dining one 
Christmas with Dr. Thomas Sprat, and 
asked him bow it was that, when the 
goose was brought to table, it was al- 
ways placed next to the parson, the 



278 ANECDOTES, 



doctor smartly replied, " I cannot tell ; 
but I shall never again see a goose with- 
out thinking of your grace." 

A Nod Story. — Bubb Doddington was 
very lethargic. Falling asleep one day, 
after dining with Sir Richard Temple 
and Lord Cobb am, the latter reproached 
Doddington with his drowsiness. Dod- 
dington denied having been asleep; and 
to prove he had not, offered to repeat 
all Lord Cobliam had been saying. Cob- 
ham challenged him to do so. Dodding- 
ton repeated a story, and Lord Cobham 
owned he had been telling it. " Well," 
said Doddington, " and yet I did not 
hear a word of it ; but I went to sleep 
because I knew that about this time of 
day you would tell that story." 

Not a Good Dinner. — An Englishman 



A >: E C D T E S . 



270 



in Paris went into a restaurant to get lii.s 
dinner. Unacquainted with the French 
language, yet unwilling to show his ig- 
norance, he pointed to the first line on the 
bill of fare, and the polite waiter brought 
him a plate of thin soup. This was very 
well, and when it was despatched he 
pointed to the second line. The waiter 
understood him perfectly, and brought 
him a vegetable soup. " Rather more 
soup than I want," thought he ; "but 
it is a Paris fashion." He duly pointed 
to the third line, and a plate of tapioca 
broth was brought him. Again to the 
fourth, and was furnished with a bowl 
of preparation of arrowroot. He tried 
the fifth line, and was supplied witli 
some gruel kept for invalids. The by- 
standers now supposed th.it they saw 



280 ANECDOTES 



an unfortunate individual who had lost 
all his teeth, and our friend, determined 
to get as far from soup as possible, 
pointed in despair to the last line on the 
bill of fare. The intelligent waiter, who 
saw at once what he wanted, politely 
handed him a bunch of toothpicks ! 
This was too much ; the Englishman 
paid his bill and left. 

Golden Silence. — Coleridge being 
seated at dinner opposite to a silent 
gentleman with a high forehead, theo- 
rized himself into an exalted opinion 
of that person's intellectual powers. lie 
was impatient to hear the stranger ut- 
ter something profound and original. 
His wish was presently fulfilled. A 
dish of apple dumplings having been 
placed before them, the rigid features 



ANECDOTES. 2S1 



of the intellectual gentleman relaxed 
from a smile to a grin, and rubbing his 
hands, he exclaimed, " Them's the jock- 
ey's for my money!" 

A Newtonian Theory. — Newton in- 
vited a friend to dinner and forgot it. 
The friend arrived and found the phi- 
losopher in a fit of abstraction. Din- 
ner was brought up for "one." The 
friend, without disturbing Newton, sat 
down and despatched it. Newton, re- 
covered from his reverie, looked at the 
empty dishes, and said, " Well, really, 
if it wasn't for the proof before my eyes, 
I could have sworn that I had not yet 
dined." 

A Bright Story. — The President of 
the Board of Trade was dining with a 
well known citizen of Cottonopolis, and 



282 ANECDOTES. 



the conversation turned on the subject 
of the growth and development of 
America. "I should like," said the 
host, who is an enthusiastic admirer of 
the great Republic, "to come back 
fifty years after my death to see what 
a fine country America had become." 
" I believe you would be glad of 
any excuse to come back," said Mr. 
Bright. 

About Macaulay. — The pleasant cof- 
fee room of the " Star and Garter," 
Richmond (recently burnt to the 
ground), has, times out of number, 
been patronized by the most illustri- 
ous statesmen and politicians. To that 
same coffee room there was wont to 
come on Sunday afternoons a gentle- 
man of rather broad stature, with grey 



ANECDOTES. 283 



hair and a large shirt collar. He would 
dine, always alone, at a particular cor- 
ner table ; he would take his wine, as a 
gentleman should ; and, after dinner, it 
was his humor to build up before hirn 
a pyramid of tumblers and wine glasses, 
which he capped with a decanter. This 
ponderous "crowning of the edifice" 
usually resulted in the toppling over of 
the entire structure in irremediable 
smash. Then the grey haired gentle- 
man would rise, pay his bill, including 
the broken glass, and depart. The 
waiters knew him well. He was Thomas 
Babington, Lord Macaula}^. 

Wine and Wit. — ' T resort to wine 
to stimulate my wits,' 1 said a young 
spendthrift to an eld one. — " Ah," re- 
plied the veteran, "that is the wr.y I 



284: ANECDOTES. 



began, but now I have to resort to my 
wits to get my wine." 

Lord Derby and the Wine. — A good 
story about the late Lord Derby is go- 
ing the rounds. Some time since an 
admirer of the illustrious earl having 
heard of his sufferings sent him a case 
of white wine as a present, with the in- 
timation that if he would drink that and 
forsake all other, he would never more 
be troubled with the gout. The carl 
having, out of curiosity, tasted the w T ine, 
returned it, saying, " I've tried both, 
and I'd rather have the gout." 

Laughable. — It was once observed to 
Lord Chesterfield that man is the only 
creature endowed with the power of 
laughter. " True," replied the earl, 
" and you may add that he is, perhaps, 



ANECDOTES. 285 



the only creature that deserves to be 
laughed at." 

Number One. — Said Lord John Rus- 
sell to Hume, at a social dinner, "What 
do you consider the object of legisla- 
tion ?" " The greatest good to the 
greatest number?" " What do you 
consider the greatest number ?" contin- 
ued his lordship. " Number one, my 
lord," was the commoner's prompt 
reply. 

A Definite Statement. — One day, at 
the table of the late Mr. Pease (Dean of 
Ely), just as the cloth was being re- 
moved, the subject of discourse hap- 
pened to be that of an extraordinary 
mortality amongst the lawyers. " We 
have lost," said a gentleman, "not less 
than six eminent barristers in as many 



286 ANECDOTES. 



months" The dean, who was quite 
deaf, rose as his friend finished his re- 
marks, and gave the company grace : 
"For this and every other mercy, the 
Lord's holy name be praised." 

A Schismatic — At a dinner party one 
evening a furious theological controver- 
sy occurred, when one of the company 
losing his temper, boisterously said to a 
stranger who sat next to him, " On 
which side, sir, are you ? Are you an 
atheist or a deist ?" " 0, neither, sir," 
was the immediate reply ; " I am a den- 
tist." 

A Twist. — Jones had been dining 
out, and as he lolled helpless in a chair, 
Mrs. Jones, who had just put one side 
of her hair in curl papers, regarded the 
sinner fixedlv, Und exclaimed, "You're 



ANECDOTES. 2S7 



drunk, Jones." Jones smiled feebly 
and replied, "My dear, you are half 
screwed." Mrs. J. caught sight of the 
joke in the looking-glass just in time to 
save a faint. 

American Oysters. — A good story is 
told of Thackeray. When a dish of large 
sized oysters were set for the first time 
before him, he gazed at them for several 
moments, and then asked what he was 
to do with them. " Eat them, of course." 
"Oh, cat them!" said Thackeray, as 
if a new light had dawned upon him; 
adding, after a pause, "Well, here 
goes'" When he had swallowed one, 
his friend asked him how he felt after 
it. " I feel," said he, " as if I had swal- 
lowed a baby!" 

Gilded Misery. — On a certain occa- 



288 ANECDOTES. 



sion Lord Alvaney half affronted Mr. 
Greville, with whom he was dining. The 
dining room had been newly and splen- 
didly furnished, whereas the dinner was 
but a very meagre and indifferent one. 
While some of the guests were flattering 
their host on his taste, magnificence, 
etc., " For my part," said his lordship, 
" I had rather have seen less gilding 
and more carving." 



NOV -1 1944 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




014 422 404 8 • 





